The previews for the Anna Faris vehicle “What’s Your Number?” couldn’t make me want to see that movie any less if they added “Exorcist”-style projectile vomiting. The premise, if you have magically managed to miss the media blitz, is that Faris’ character realizes her list of sexual partners has one more digit than most of her friends’. She spirals into a panic attack induced by slut-shaming and spends the rest of the movie trying not to add a new guy to the list. It’s supposed to be funny, but I can’t work up more of a response than a frustrated eye-roll and a long, exasperated sigh.
Here’s the thing about counting sexual partners: context matters. A number is just a number. It gives no background on the who, what, when, where, and why. If we want to judge people’s sexual activity (which I’m not convinced we do), the qualitative matters so much more than the quantitative. Keep reading »
I’m waving the white flag here, Universe; I’m officially burnt out on Internet stalking my crushes. I’m sure his Facebook Timeline is gonna to be bitchin’, but I just can’t summon it in me to give a crap about his pictures, videos, and/or status updates. Sorry, boys! Keep reading »
He will be just like Richard Gere in “Pretty Woman,” I thought. He will be tall, handsome, dreadfully rich, with salt and pepper hair, and an insatiable desire to buy me shoes. He’ll probably be a complete gentleman. Have a reservation at some super swank restaurant. He’ll think I’m captivating over champagne and oysters. He’ll love that I’m the stereotypical starving artist. By the end of the night he’ll be so head-over-heels that he’ll offer to pay off my student loans and take me to Paris. Maybe after a month he’ll want to give me a head-spinningly generous allowance and buy me an apartment in the Village. You know, just to keep things easy and comfortable for me so I can have more time to go on auditions. And of course, he doesn’t even expect me to have sex with him.
This, of course, is what I pictured my sugar-baby misadventure to be like.
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It seemed like such a good idea at the time. All Clyde Gardner had to do was kill a bear, skin it, and wear the bear skin and claws to attack his ex-girlfriend. That way, no one would be able to track her murder back to him. And yet! Somehow this foolproof plan — ripped right outta the plot of “The Wicker Man” — went horribly awry. Shocking! Eventually Gardner realized that the whole killing and skinning a bear thing might actually be kind of hard work — even though he lived in rural Malone, NY, where one might reasonably encounter a bear or two if one was really trying. So Gardner got lazy and hired a hit man.
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Lauren and David Blair tied the knot in 1984. But they didn’t want their public pledge of love for each other to be a one-time thing. So they decided to renew their vows, again and again, each time in a different location. On October 2nd, they renewed their vows for the 99th time, making it their 100th marriage to each other. To put the numbers even more in context, the couple set the Guinness World Record for the “Most Marriage Vow Renewals by the Same Couple” back in 2001, when they renewed their vows for the 66th time. With each subsequent renewal, they have beaten their own record.
So why does the couple do this?
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Like most freshman wives, I assumed that my mother-in-law (MIL) and I would enjoy an affable relationship, for she is no monster-in-law Jane Fonda and I am certainly no J.Lo daughter-in-law (DIL). I mean, why wouldn’t we be as close as bona fide mother and daughter? We are intelligent, respectful and kind women who care deeply for the same man. My naiveté conjured images of us laughing over tea together, trading recipes and wrinkle secrets, and bragging to anyone who would listen how we were best of friends.
One year later, that idealistic notion of a legitimate mother-daughter relationship is laughable and overrated at best. If I had a time machine, I would go back and hunt for the ultimate handbook on how to handle MILs from A-Z and read it top to bottom with a highlighter. No one warned me about the multifaceted nature and complexities of a MIL/DIL relationship. Nor did I realize the toll it would take on my marriage.
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