Elliot Rodger, #YesAllWomen, And Where We Go From Here
This rage is not new. This rage is not unique. Rodger’s actions were extreme, but he was closer to the norm than any of us would like to admit.
This rage is not new. This rage is not unique. Rodger’s actions were extreme, but he was closer to the norm than any of us would like to admit.
And I know, I know, I am not supposed to even indulge these thoughts, these clandestine admissions that I am still, after all these years, unhappy with my body, because after all, my body can do so many wonderful things.
The name they picked is the name they’ll have to coo when they’re deeply in love with their new baby. That is the name they’ll have to say sternly when they’re grounding the kid. That is the name they thought was a good fit for their baby — not yours.
Grey’s Anatomy: So Help Me God If I Ever Have To Go To This Hospital For A Real Emergency, Amen
Take a few extra minutes to sit down at the coffee shop (with your fancy coffee with all them bells and whistles if you choose) and really savor that cupcake-for-breakfast.
Any wedding you attend without at least one death seems like a pretty mundane affair. (But if the invite says open bar, you’re not ruling out the possibility.)
A really fun game you often like to play is seeing how much [hummus/cheese/nutella] you can put into your body at any one point in time.
Expectation: You will have your place. Your Cheers. Your McLaren’s. (Central Perk for those afternoon pick-me-ups, I suppose.) Your spot, where the bartender high-fives you on entry, and everyone is super friendly and all the single people are overwhelmingly attractive and eager to be chatted up.
You have, in all seriousness, uttered the phrase “Mercury’s retrograde” to explain a bit of bad luck.
“Red Light District” and “Blueberry Yum Yum” are all well and good, but where Ludacris really shines is in his ability to announce himself with a “Luduhhh!” and reel off into untold tongue-tying rhymes.