What the heck is going on with Harley Quinn? Or more specifically I guess I should ask, what the heck is going on with the series creators and contributors?
This week, in honor of the autumn leaf I saw, I’m recounting some of my favorite graphic novels and collected works to read in preparation of the cooler months ahead.
Today is my birthday. I’ve reached the last year of my twenties, and for the past few weeks I’ve been wanting to do an inventory, of sorts, of things I’ve learned
Mayor McCheese is actually just a family of wild turkeys stuffed inside an old hamburger suit.
Last week I put forth a lot of effort in trying to articulate in 500 words my feelings on street harassment and the frustrations I feel about the subject.
In the past, I have had men forcefully touch and grab me, yell things at me, try to physically block my path, or rub their dick on me in a public space, and I’ve mostly tried to ignore this behavior.
In each drawer there are stacks upon stacks of pages from the hotel stationery pads, filled with people’s thoughts, secrets, drawings…
In more uplifting, albeit stranger news, a Japanese woman has created a kayak which is a blown up replica of her ladyparts.
The little girl’s super power? Fecal kinesis. She can control poop. A shit wizard, if you will.
I was sitting on the grass at One Mile the other day, watching the churning froth of that people-dog-bacteria soup, when I saw something that filled my broken brain with joy
I have to say I appreciate the fact that the boobies are all different shades and sizes, but the odd shape of them makes them look like umbrellas to me.
I’m not sure why I’d waste time being depressed anyway, especially since there are so many fantastic things happening around all the time.