Blunt. Happy. Australian.
By taco doomsday on Relation Ships
I don't know you guys, I just don't get Relation Ships.
@vonrouge Relationshapes never forget.
By [sic] on Relation Ships
@Patrick M I call Relation Chips.
"Sweet Southern Heat Barbecue Flavored Potato Chips": this one sounds like a keeper.
What's the acceptable percentage for 'trolling all my social networks with smug updates'? (My married pals haven't done this, but by God I would.)
This blew my mind off. Wow.
@harebell The issue of ghettoization is so tough, because if I was going to try and get a job in magazine writing, I'd definitely think "ARGH not Cosmopolitan, I don't want to spend my time writing about $45 lipstick and writing quizzes about 'Is your period making your man nervous?' or whatever." If that kind of magazine seems incompatible with a "serious" writing career, women won't be pushing to get jobs there in the assumption it'd be a great place to do innovative and informative work. But, of course, those kind of assumptions have a lot to do with internalized sexism too.
I guess that The Hairpin is one place that gives me hope for amazing women's media. It's pretty astonishing how much my opinions about humor and humor by women have been changed by the stuff on this site, just for example.
@City_Dater A flibbertigibbet, a will-o-the-wisp, a clown, you might say?
@par_parenthese Seriously, I am at an age (late 20s) where everyone awesome seems to have a girlfriend. I usually find it out by Facebook stalking them after we meet (charmingly...) which is rather labor-intensive and always disappointing.
Recently, though, a hot Italian dude was flirting with me all night, and when I looked him up on FB later his profile name was literally "Alessio Giulia's Husband" with a profile pic of her kissing him. Since he shaved a good 15 minutes off my internet stalking, and his profile appears to have been created BY HIS FIANCEE TO WARD OFF POTENTIALLY INTERESTED FEMALES, I couldn't help having a good laugh. Modern life!
@Hopeyglass Seriously, there should be some kind of karmic cash payback for spending an entire evening playing with your hair, laughing with your head thrown back, and toying fake-shyly with your drink at a dude only to have your friend say, as you leave the party, "Oh, Seth? Yeah, he's great! I ran into him and his girlfriend at Whole Foods yesterday; she's so pretty."
MY GOING RATE FOR THAT SHIT IS $50/HOUR, UNIVERSE
Can Mara Wilson come write for the Hairpin, please?