Signs you’ve taken trampyness to the executive level: Walking around the office with a visible bra strap that matches your outfit. #WhoreCouture
My mother just left me a 30-second voicemail during which she apologized twice for “bothering” me.
Jesus, no wonder I apologize at least once a day just for existing.
Let’s end the day on a good note, shall we?
Via OhJoySexToy.com: How to Eat Pussy. (Sorry, that’s what it’s called. But it’s just a cartoon.)
A friend sent this to me. I’m trying not to believe he thought of me because I look like the woman in the comic. Regardless, I’ll just leave my cartoon doppelgänger here, and simply say that I hope y’all have a lovely and, um, productive weekend. *wink wink, nudge nudge*
(Oh, and hey, a comic called “How to Eat Pussy?” — NSFW.)
I apparently have a lot of feelings today…
I hate women’s magazines, and Self in particular — it’s basically Marie Claire wearing sneakers — so I’m enjoying watching this tutu debacle unfold.
I don’t like running. At all. But part of the reason I still do it, and the main reason I pay to do races, is that runners are (generally) some supportive sons of bitches, and it makes me feel awesome to be part of that camaraderie.
And this? Is bullshit. I don’t give a baker’s fuck what that woman is wearing — she’s out there running. (While, I might add, SURVIVING CANCER.) I personally don’t do the tutu, but I’ve run in a tiara. Why? Because I CAN. I like running because you can do it in a tutu or tiara, or in high-tech running gear, and it’s all good. I know there are some judgey panda “real runners” out there, and you know what? Whatever. I’m having fun, and being active, and feeling good about ME.
As long as I’m wearing clothes, my friends who run aren’t gonna go all Regina George on me: “That is the ugliest effing tutu I’ve ever seen.” Because my friends aren’t assholes. And from what I’ve seen, particularly in this case, a lot of runners aren’t assholes, either.
So screw you, Self. And by the way, on Wednesdays, we wear pink. Pink tutus.
This made me sad. (And before anyone yells at me, I’m not saying I agree with anything. Merely that it makes me sad.)
“You would think an unhappy person would leave. So by definition they must not be that unhappy. They are in that wonderful ambivalent state, too good to leave, too bad to stay.
“That’s why an affair is such an erotic experience. It’s not about sex, it’s about desire, about attention, about reconnecting with parts of oneself you lost or you never knew existed. It’s about longing and loss.”