I read Ella Enchanted so many times that the cover fell off. It was dropped in a lake, chewed by a dog, and covered in food and drink stains.

Here's my unsubstantiated, most likely wildly inaccurate initial response:

I don't agree with him, I was just saying that he expressed himself poorly. Also, I'm sick of "woman of good character" being a catch phrase.

My Fake Patty's Day celebrations were always fantastic. Why? Because I avoided assholes like this writer and got shitsauced with my dude friends in the basement at Auntie Mae's.

I guess I just don't get the joke. And that's fine, I am a humorless feminist.

I braved the product description, so you don't have to. Urinary feature:

OH!!! Haha, that is pretty funny.

huh?

Thanks! You too!

The first time was when I was 11. I was really upset about a fight with my mom and probably scowling. Random (adult) man told me to smile. It was so shocking that I still remember it.

1. Yes. That's just called being a nice person. It's only not okay if you demand that your attention be reciprocated. I really appreciate when random people smile at me and say hi. It makes the world feel friendlier.

I scowl when I concentrate. So does my best friend. When we were sixteen, we would work on our homework together at the library. We were also stereotypical goths. Think cropped black shirts, multiple piercings, leather pants, etc. (It was 2001, gimme a break.)

Many, if not most men have 816 area codes and watch the Chiefs/Royals. Obviously, my limited sample size in no way affects my conclusions.

I bet you're angry with your mother for never leaving your abusive father. Also, you have a small penis.

It's about more than food. She'll help you recognize patterns and attitudes that are holding you back, work on specific action plans and provide emotional support.

You should definitely talk to an eating disorder specialist.

I don't eat family. I have worked closely with dogs and horses. They are willing and eager teammates. I've participated in both stadium jumping and agility. Same sport, different animals.

My gyno right now delivered several of my friends, stayed as their family physicians, and is now delivering their babies. After a horrific experience with a (female) gyno, they recommended I go to him. I've never felt more comfortable. I think it's less of a gender issue and more of a "what the fuck is wrong with…

I. Don't. Know. At first I thought it was an odd and poorly-fitted leotard. Maybe they were very drunk?

Props to him for attempting a romantic gesture?