Deleting because several people have explained this better than I.
The day I figured out how to combine all my small retirement accounts into one bigger-than-small account was a glorious one indeed. I sat on my JCPenney duvet and grinned widely while holding my cat as if I were Don Corleone.
Personally, it's because I'm too busy hoarding the handpicked material possessions and copious alone time that I never got as a working-class child. I do not have a partner because I am too concerned with sleeping on my relatively meager paycheck like a dragon sleeps on her gold.
Coming out of my Jezebel commenting hiatus to note that Reddit and 4chan are on alert.
DON'T WORRY, GUYS. THE INTERNET IS ON IT.
(I read this yesterday and burst into horrified tears at my desk -- it was one of three animal abuse stories that popped up on my radar yesterday, and I ran home after work/class and snuggled my cat all night. I made a small donation to Ken Aden's campaign -- it's okay, guys, he's pro-choice! -- and will be making a matching donation to my favorite shelter today.)
I've criticized Jezebel posts in the post itself exactly twice in the four years I've been here. If that's a destarring offense, I stand by my comment. I've always defended the way in which you've run your commenter community, but this is a bit extreme, no?
I don't find it easily infuriating, either, but I also don't find it particularly amusing. "HAR HAR, NERDS BE UNSEXAY" is such a warmed-over wisecrack that Dane Cook eats it every day as part of a highly derivative breakfast. I expect more from Jezebel in general and Tracie in particular, since she can be gut-bustingly hilarious when she tries.
I'm not even going to touch the whole "subculture mocked by someone outside of it" angle, since I'm tired and hungry and more than willing to let someone more invested in this than I am take it on.
I'm not even going to touch the whole "subculture mocked by someone outside of it" angle, since I'm tired and hungry and more than willing to let someone more invested in this than I am take it on.
I was going to try to manufacture some rage at this headline and the ensuing witless commentary, but all I can really muster is mild irritation and continued disappointment at the direction in which Jezebel and its writers are heading.
YOU GUYS, THIS BLOG IS RUN BY ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE IN THE WORLD, NICK AKA DUCKUMU. We went to college together and he is an amazing cook-person and he's fucking hilarious. He really does love Celine with an intense ferocity.
He was once so internet-famous that ONTD did an April Fools post that he died, but every time this comes up somewhere in mainstream media, I actually DIE LAUGHING because NICK IS THE BESTEST.
If you are lamenting the lack of Celine, I encourage you to visit one of his other blogs, [starjonesinhats.tumblr.com]
He was once so internet-famous that ONTD did an April Fools post that he died, but every time this comes up somewhere in mainstream media, I actually DIE LAUGHING because NICK IS THE BESTEST.
If you are lamenting the lack of Celine, I encourage you to visit one of his other blogs, [starjonesinhats.tumblr.com]
Oh, good, I already had you hearted.
Why is she "Woman With 700 Cats"? Why isn't she "Woman With a 501(c)(3) Certification" or "Woman With 25 Employees"?
OH YOU CRAZY MEDIA KIDS
OH YOU CRAZY MEDIA KIDS
Ironic misogyny can suck my dick.
Face it, Jerome get more time than Brandon.
I believe in checking the other person's email IF, AND ONLY IF, you have serious reason to believe they've committed a felony or something. And not one of those white-collar money-centric ones that just bore everyone. I'm talking SVU-style crimes. Get in, get the evidence, get out, and call the cops.
And if you need to get a Talbots coupon code from your mom's Gmail account.
THAT'S IT, THOUGH.
And if you need to get a Talbots coupon code from your mom's Gmail account.
THAT'S IT, THOUGH.
Engourage
This is the best typo I've ever seen. Please don't change it. I'll cry.
This is the best typo I've ever seen. Please don't change it. I'll cry.
I think of "feminine spray" as "underwear spray." Like, a deodorizer for your underwear and not your bits themselves. The vag is a magical self-cleaning system, but crotchcloth can sometimes use a midday refresher.
I'm so glad that Lindsay Bluth Funke's Dip-A-Pet enterprise finally took off somewhere.
Wait, does my parents' above-ground pool make me culturally lower-class? THIS POSTCARD CONFUSES ME.
(Of course I'm culturally lower-class. I've just never heard of this pool thing.)
(Of course I'm culturally lower-class. I've just never heard of this pool thing.)
Why is Leslie Knope, connoisseur of all things sweet and tasty, questioning the existence of Entenmann's anything?
That comment section looks like Ayn Rand's dessicated corpse threw up all over it.
I get one of those up my nose at least three times a day. Old hat, Buzzfeed.
