I never thought I would be wearing an anti-war shirt for nearly 9 years. It was supposed to be obsolete long ago. As much as I've grown to love this stylish and pertinent piece of fashion, it sure feels good to let it go.
Asserting that life begins as soon as a woman and a man enter into a conversation after 9pm, House Republicans have drafted a bill that would make any act that delays or prevents coitus illegal under federal law.
Life is short, and sometimes it goes by so quickly that you don’t know you are reaching Significant Milestones as you go through your day.
So when I peed my pants during the field trip to Mount Vernon in the third grade, I didn’t know that that would be the Last Urine of Bentley (at least until I get that “elderly incontinence” problem I’ve seen referenced in Whoopi Goldberg ads for “Poise” pads).
As a prolific poster of much-enjoyed (and modest!) Facebook status updates, I thought I would provide some helpul hints for you so that my news feed is more interesting to read. This first feature provides tips for posting content that gives the impression that you are hip on Internet trends instead exposing how painfully unaware you are that there is an internet beyond Facebook and the Food Network Online.
In my family, we never wore seatbelts. It wasn’t until I was in the seventh grade and saw an episode of “Ripley’s Believe It or Not!” that showed how seatbelts increase safety when riding in a car, especially if you’re in an accident! BELIEVE IT OR NOT! Honestly, I do not know how I made it through my childhood.
After waking up this morning, cooking eggs, and watching my daily array of YouTube videos of cats falling down, I figured I’d write up a nice little piece about how excited I am by the return of baseball. I was aghast to find that the editor of this site, Comrade Laurent Martin, gazzumped me with an extended article about why baseball is responsible for the demise of civil discourse.
Yesterday was opening day for Major League Baseball and regardless of how little you care about it, I'm sure you were aware of it. It's pretty much impossible for me to sufficiently prepare myself for baseball season and the relentless volley of inane tweets and status updates. By the time they subside, the weather will have turned and the other seasonal depression will have set in.
Look. I’m tired of people getting all up in my business because I don’t shun the jegging. For those of you unfamiliar with this particular portmanteau, the “jegging” refers to leggings made out of jeans: more specifically, stretchy denim. Why the close-mindedness, world? I’m not talking about wearing jeggings with a t-shirt tucked in, showing your cameltoe to the general population. I’m talking about tasteful use of jeggings: under a flowy top and tucked into hot boots. Really, the jegging should be seen only from about mid thigh to calf. Any more than that is disaster. But oh, that magical two feet of jegging-clad leg, the “sweet spot” of the jegging! They make you look like you can fit into wee skinny jeans, even when the scale and your ass tell you differently. You can still do deep knee bends in them, thanks to the generous spandex content in the fabric. And you never know when you need to do deep knee bends. Trust me on this.
I have chosen the wrong career. If Facebook status updates are any indication as to how I ought to live my life (and really what could offer more sage advice?), then I should have chosen to be a real estate agent in New York or San Francisco. Or both.
Several times a week my news feed announces that an apartment is available, an awesome apartment, or that someone needs a sublet. Pronto. But Facebook status updates are ephemeral and I'm not a real estate agent who cares to remember how many square feet you need to live. By the time it occurs to me that two statuses are related, I've forgotten who needs what and when they need it. And I've probably already defriended both of you.
A lot of people wonder how Chinese bird parents raise such stereotypically successful birds. They wonder what these parents do to produce so many flying whizzes and chirping prodigies, what it’s like inside the flock, and whether they could do it too. Well, I can tell them, because I've done it.
