A recent post on Man Repeller declares that belly buttons are the new nipples on the scale of shock-worthy body embellishments to reveal in public. While that may be the case for your average woman, it was laughable to me, because guess what? I don’t even have a belly button.
“…and I am not your transitional phrase.” Quick thoughts on love, and what it’s not.
Why friends who get pumped up by things that you initially could care less about are–in my book (see: that of Jess, rather than Job)–the best friends to surround yourself with.
An Albert Camus quote renders my un-inspiration A-okay, and a survey sent from a reader gives me the perfect false sense of productivity. Happy Saturday!
To my oldest friend on her birthday: thank you for being an endless source of human-Advil to the many, many (have I said many?) friends who are lucky enough to call you one of their people—we are positively addicted, proud to be your junkies.
Am I convinced that eternal coupledom is THE route to take—an American Dream worth having? Not exactly. But, damn, is it an appealing ideal.
After falling for someone mainly via virtual communication, I was crushed to realize that he wasn’t the ideal type that I thought he was. Doing my best Carrie Bradshaw, I began to wonder: is pseudo-loving and losing better than never pseudo-loving at all?
Amidst the non-stop tears that came with saying goodbye to my childhood pet, I was reminded that there’s serious relief in unabashedly letting it out, and that–despite evidence to the contrary–the little girl I once was is still here.
A sordid tale of attempting to be productive on a Saturday in New York City, involving a heavy dose of the gift that keeps on giving: PDA.