There’s a certain amount of brouhaha amongst some evangelical Republicans over a minor presidential appointment in the Commerce Department. Amanda Simpson will perform a job for the public benefit that I can’t define. I’m pretty sure most of the American public doesn’t know what the Senior Technical Adviser for the Commerce Department’s Bureau of Industry and Security does. But, because she’s transgender, it’s prompted an associate dean at the extremely conservative Liberty University to propel himself into the media’s light to proclaim that, “This isn’t like appointing an African-American in order to try to provide diversity and right some kind of discriminatory wrong. This is about political correctness.”
Absurdly stupid. Because, of course, it should be no issue at all, because people are people, and work ought to go to the person whose experience best merits it. And stupidity compounded because I’m unsure how obstinately self-blinded someone must be to believe that transgendered people don’t face deep prejudice. The prejudice is dumb, as it is at all times, but especially so when directed at a scattered group with no agenda other than to fit in and be left alone. But I guess there’s always a learning curve. I had one.
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Before JTT, Leo, Pacey, or Dawson, there was Bill. Bill Nye the Science Guy. My first crush.
I was about 8, and Bill was maybe a million years older, but that didn’t matter. My family wasn’t in the least bit bothered by this—in fact, my parents approved highly of our relationship, because they were much happier to see their daughter watching “Bill Nye the Science Guy” than half the other crap on television.
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A couple months ago I discovered that the husband half of a couple I’ve known for years was leaving his wife for one of his grad students. I was shocked. I mean, I’ve had friends go through relationship ups and downs before, but this couple was one I’d always looked up to as a relationship ideal. It sounds cliché, but they seemed like the perfect couple. They were both creative, independent (yet also very supportive of each other) and seemed very much in love. They went on adventurous vacations, were both still super hot—hell, they even had a house with a white picket fence! How could they break up?! How could they do this to me?! Keep reading »
S**t My Dad Says? Fake AP? They’re old news, bitch. The new must-follow Twitter feed in town is @NeedyGirlfriend.
The only thing to say about Needy Girlfriend’s insecurities is they are effing hilarious. Is she fat? Does her hair smell like hair? She wasn’t checking your texts; she was skimming your phone with her eyes. Needy Girlfriend doesn’t care if she’s just a friend—it’s unacceptable for you to be hanging out with that girl! Of course, no needy girlfriend would be complete without the emotionally unavailable man in her life who makes her feel insecure: @AloofBoyfriend. Not only is he blissfully unaware of all the things Needy Girlfriend frets about, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. We’re guessing these kids have their own book deal by the time Needy Girlfriend plans—err, accidentally has—her next pregnancy scare. [Needy Girlfriend and Aloof Boyfriend] Keep reading »
I’ve been in therapy for, oh, almost four years, I think. I go once a week, for 45 minutes. I spend a lot of time talking about myself, obviously — issues I have from the past that I need to work on because they’re affecting me in the present (and potentially the future), as well as the usual topics I need to vent about (work, money, family, etc.) so I don’t go postal. But mostly, I talk about boys.
When I say I talk about boys, what I mean is that I talk a lot about the issues the dudes in my life are having, how they’re affecting me and, thus, us, and how improvements need to be made in order for them to be better partners. I play amateur psychologist during my little 45 minute sessions each week with my doc, diagnosing each and every one of these boyfriends based on the knowledge I’ve gathered as a patient myself. I have evolved and healed in innumerable ways through my own treatment. I was (almost) fixed, so let me fix them.
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Dang it, we knew there had to be a trade-off for getting sex on demand when you live with a partner: A recent Australian study of 6,000 women has shown that, after 10 years, the average gal gains 15 lbs. if she lives with a partner and 20 lbs. if she lives with someone and has a baby. According to The New York Times, “There is no reason to believe that having a partner causes metabolic changes, so the weight gain among childless women with partners was almost surely caused by altered behavior.” You know, like those post-coital pints of Cherry Garcia.
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