“Do you love her?” I finally asked my ex in the midst of our screaming match last late night. He paused for a minute. I could hear him breathing deeply over the phone line, slow and steady—he could have been at a yoga studio, contorted and wearing orange spandex, or practicing Lamaze breathing for the birth of his first child. Instead, he was verbally (and angrily) tracing the end of our relationship. The truth of his new relationship had been so obscured in various manipulations, that despite approaching a year of us not dating I really had no idea where “they” were.
“Yes,” he said, and my heart grew very still. Somewhere after he listed the third or fourth reason why she was better than me, I interrupted, “Stop. Just. Stop. I can’t do this with you anymore.” I hung up the phone, curled up in bed, and went to sleep. Keep reading »
Was your love for the original “Degrassi High” reignited by our “Favorite Fictional TV Bands” slideshow earlier today? Now you can show just how passionately you feel aboot (yeah, we said it) Canada’s answer to “90210″ with this T-shirt. The whole gang is there — Spike! The twin who had the abortion! Every member of Zit Remedy! Throw on a fedora to fully channel Joey Jeremiah. He was such a stud.
There will be something missing during Sunday night’s Super Bowl—something that’s been a part of football’s biggest event for the past 45 years. Cheerleaders! Apparently, neither the Green Bay Packers or the Pittsburgh Steelers have them—the Steelers sent their cheerleaders packing in 1970 and Green Bay got rid of their pom-pom shakers in 1988. And the NFL has confirmed that they won’t be providing a squad to make up for the void. Well, since there won’t be a cadre of pretty women on the sidelines, this should at least make the Super Bowl cameramen a touch more creative on what to shoot before cutting to a commercial. [Daily Mail UK] Keep reading »
Please explain how a headline like this sees print? I bet their enrollment rates have plummeted in the last 24 hours. [yfrog] Keep reading »
I’ve never told anyone this, but there’s a good chance Jim Morrison, you know, from the band the Doors, could be my father. My mom was working at a head shop in the late-’60s when Jimmy (that’s what she called him) came in and bought a year’s worth of incense. It was basically love at first sight. They were together for a short period but it eventually fizzled out because of Jimmy’s drug use (which eventually killed him in 1971). Still, my mom was a forward thinker and thought someone should carry on Jimmy’s genes, so she kept a little container of his man juice on ice for safe-keeping. In January of 1979 that little cup of frozen spunk went missing; 10 months later, I was born. My mom refuses to talk about it. Keep reading »