Judging by Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, every news headline, and the feeling of morbid, animal fear I felt when I put my face close to the window, it's ball-shriveling, ovary-freezing, nose-blackeningly cold outside today. So how the fuck are you supposed to dress? Elaborately.
Ugh, men, right? What a bunch of shrill, harping nags. It's like, complain, complain, complain. Bitch, bitch, bitch. I wish I had a remote control for my husband, so I could turn his volume down during House Hunters International—amirite, ladies?!?!? Except he would probably just go complain about it with his buddies…
I'm not going to spend a lot of time here defending healthy bitching. In fact, not bitching is for repressives who enjoy growing tumors, and then turning into an exploding volcano…of tumors. This is for the rest of us — those of us who already understand that bitching is like having an egg a day (yolk-free!) — a…
It doesn't take a graduate of the Dr. Phil School of Pointing out Obvious Shit to understand that nagging can ruin a marriage. But did you know that, according to the Wall Street Journal, women are usually the ones who do it? Dear women: Stop ruining marriage. How many times do you need to be reminded?
A lot of us have a not-so-great association with the holiday season. Sure, there's a lot to love but it's also a stressful time for everyone, even if you do have amazing family members who only occasionally make you want to lose it.
God shat on Chicago this week, blessing us with more than 20 inches of powdery white misery and two days of citywide chaos. In the blizzard's wake is only the misery and claustrophobia known as cabin fever. Suffer with me.
When life gives you lemons, sometimes you can make lemonade. But sometimes you want to take the lemons right back to the lemon store and tell them where to shove them. Our advice on complaining will help you do that.