Oh if the rapture people’s idea of god is the right one, I’m definitely not getting into heaven. But that’s ok, heaven would be full of people I’d never want to hang out with anyway.

It’s almost 9pm where I am and there’s no sign of it. Jesus better hurry his ass up if he wants to be on time.

Yeah, my teachers would’ve been pretty concerned if I couldn’t spell July in 4th grade (instead they were like, “she’s super book smart but holy shit she has zero social skills,” on all my report cards). But I guess you never know what else was going on. I have a friend with a learning disability who is smart but still can’t spell even as an adult. Some of my other friends are way smarter than me and spelling just isn’t their strong suit for whatever reason.

Yes but the post title is what I was responding to.

No kidding. I’m apparently the only person who has ever had an amicable divorce where we just realized we weren’t compatible and never felt the need to bash each other. The post-divorce crowd can be pretty dire. They should mandate a certain number of therapy sessions before you can sign up for a dating app.

I’m assuming that if the genie is giving you the money, magic will take care of some of those concerns.

Yeah, but what about what the rest of us deserve? It’s so awful.

Honestly, sounds like my dog. She would throw pretty much any other dog under the bus, especially the ones with the gall to approach her fence.

I really hope he just has the worst injector in the world and this isn’t permanent. If it’s a face lift, it’s what he deserves, but I’m not sure the rest of us should have to look at him like that forever.

This truck is on to something. I asked my dog if she put a nano chip on my body and she said no, but it sounds like something the huskies next door would do.

If it’s in the Caribbean like another commenter mentioned, it may not be USD. XCD to USD is $2.70 to $1.

This interview is from 1979.

She was 16 or 17, so you’re not far off.

I leave the whole thing set up in the guest room so I don’t have to mess with it, and I’m a woman, so most of my dressier tops are less complicated than a men’s button-down. I plug it in, wash my face, and it’s ready to go, and it really is only about 2 minutes to actually iron. Maybe twice that if it’s a particularly finicky fabric (which I’m slowly eliminating from my wardrobe).

Man, I iron all the time. I’m not like, ironing underwear like a crazy person, but I have a lot of shirts that would be straight up unacceptable to wear to work without it. It takes like 2 minutes.

It’s definitely way less work. If you get hired for an hour, you’re pretty much expected to be fully engaged in, if not sex, then at least being entertaining in some way. With the type of sex work she did, she was never getting paid for time spent sleeping or eating (and definitely not hanging out and shopping), unless that was someone’s kink, I guess. I had a series of sugar daddies in my early 20s, and don’t let anyone tell you that’s not sex work, and I definitely made less per hour than a more traditional prostitute, but I also put in a lot less energy. Plus, it came with a lot more perks.

Somewhere, Brennan Lee Mulligan is crying and he doesn’t know why.

Oh I’m the opposite - I’m not a very good cook because I don’t enjoy doing it. I’m pretty good with flavors because I’m not afraid of seasonings, but my knife skills are bordering on Worst Cook in America levels. The abuse I have wrought upon poor, innocent, delicious onions is a crime.

Also, if you like the fried onions, have you seen the jalapeno version? So good. I’ve started putting them on everything.

I’m the worst about this. My mom and I will try a new restaurant and I’ll be talking about “oh this needs acid, that’s the perfect amount of heat, blah blah.” Meanwhile, I’m over here “cooking” noodles with a pile of kimchi every other day because that’s all I ever have in the fridge.

Coffee, hash browns, eggs. Then I spend my remaining money on hot sauce or green chile.