I wish I could say yes, somewhere awesome that’s paying me well and you’ll see it soon. I’d also be happy saying yes, somewhere awesome and you’ll see it soon. Or just yes, I’m writing somewhere secret, or in a diary, or on a bathroom wall. I am overwhelmed by the most basic parts of life right now. I write a lot, in my head, mostly in the shower. I have got to get things in order, because I really miss writing. Thank you for asking.
This was an official thing in the very recent real world. People were like, totally, put that on a flag and other important government documents, great idea, definitely not at all weird.
| — | Edith Wharton, from her autobiography (via turtalia) |
(Via Millie on FB)
I’ve seen a lot of people making the argument that Joe Paterno’s legacy shouldn’t be tied to the sex scandal that engulfed the last 12 weeks of his life, abruptly ending his career in disgrace. The man coached a college football team for almost half a century and he did it well. He won a lot of…
Can I make an auto reply link to this for any Paterno apologists on Twitter and FB?
We went to Fuck Hill in the shaggin’ wagon. We decided to dedicate our lives to synchronized swimming. We got a shit part in HMS Pinafore. We hated his haircut but loved his armpit hair. We broke our toe during secret cheerleading practice in the basement. We saw him at Pizza Paul & Mary. We grew out our Rachel. We Frenched. We took the hand of the demon. We had an ice sculpture of a bulldog at our prom. We read about rape in Glamour magazine. We waxed our butt, moustache, eyebrows and feet. We were locked in the bathroom at the party. We did it in front of the tiger. We are CRINGE.

