If you happen to drop something (whether it be your tail or your tampon), pick it up
Ahh, words. What else could have the potential to emotionally destroy a person in one moment, then raise them up to feel invincible in the next? Well, meth. Probably meth.
Whether it’s (falsely) convincing myself that maybe this will be the year I learn to love eggplant, or trying (and failing) to stop looking at puppies up for adoption in the hopes my schedule will clear enough for me to have one, tis the season for poor choices
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