When My Uterus Began Throbbing in Earnest: Outlander S1 E11

“The Devil’s Mark” Claire and Geillis are tossed into a deep, dank, dark place called a Thieves Hole and locked in. The women instantly begin accusing one another of terrible things but it’s understandable; their circumstances are dire. Geillis admits she murdered Arthur so she could be with her One Twu Luv. A guard throws […]

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Unruly Women Are Always Witches: Outlander S1 E 10

“By the Pricking of My Thumbs” For once we don’t have to wait for sexy times because the episode opens with Claire, naked in bed, gasping and moaning as she is orally pleasured by Jamie. She seems to be really enjoying herself and Jamie seems to know what he’s doing down there. Then, of course, […]

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Toast Points for the Week of April 17th

Hello Toasties! I hope you’ve all had a magnificent week. Mine felt like a week full of Mondays, because that’s how your week feels when you come back from the beach, but as always it was impossible not to revel in the many delights of The Toast:

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For Your Safety and Enjoyment: A Short Story

The waves heaved with foam and the sun illuminated everything until it was so bright the edges of objects seemed to be drawn in black. Claire leaned forward and spit up into the bushes that dotted the perimeter of the beach. But it was more than spit-up. It turned out it was a whole stream of purple. She’d been drinking wine cooler all afternoon, and now the beautiful color of it came out and landed in the long grass there at the edge of the beach, almost on her canvas tennis shoes. It was her sixteenth birthday, and she felt very thin and insubstantial in the wind that blew her long hair forward. She heaved a second time. She watched the tips touch the grape vomit. The wind pitched small granules of a stinging sand across her thighs.

She straightened and rubbed at her mouth with the back of her hand. Her throat hurt from the acid of the wine cooler. She didn’t have a tissue, only her hand, so she used her fingertips to comb and shake her hair and loose any gunk. She looked for her hair elastic on her wrist: the wrist was naked. She checked her shoulder for the strap of her purse but that was gone too.

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Cocktail Hour: Open Thread

It’s spring!!! Give me all the gin and the ice and the juniper berries and rose petals and spriiiinggggg!!!!! Except allergies. But no one’s making me hike in the pollen. So yay!

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If Sarah Polley Were Your Girlfriend

Previously in this series: If Natalie Dormer Were Your Girlfriend

1. If Sarah Polley were your girlfriend, she wouldn’t be annoyed if you showed up to the Toronto International Film Festival with cat hair on your carefully pressed shirt. She’d lean into you during screenings and you’d smell her hair and sigh.

2. If Sarah Polley were your girlfriend, she’d hold your hand at anti-austerity protests and share your complaints about the bitter cold and the obnoxious manarchists. You’d bring the coffee and she’d bring the megaphone. 

3. If Sarah Polley were your girlfriend, you’d collaborate on fanfiction about the Prime Minister’s wife. Sarah would scold you lovingly for using the word ‘smoldering’ one too many times.

4. If Sarah Polley were your girlfriend, she’d coach you ever so gently on the art of surviving family dysfunction and defuse toxic competitions over who a certain dead relative loved best with stories from the set of Road to Avonlea. Like the time a pig got loose and trashed the craft services table. Or when she got in trouble for spilling purple kool-aid on an irreplaceable corset. 

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This Is Only Creepy If You Let It Be Creepy: A Short Story

My ex-neighbor Bill comes over to my place on Thursdays to stare at his ex-wife Janine through my window blinds. There’s a restraining order that says Bill has to stay five hundred feet away from Janine, but he pays me ten bucks an hour because I can get him to thirty feet without anyone knowing shit.

Bill always brings his binoculars and a six-pack of beer. Sometimes we order pizza. Bill sits in my recliner and waits for Janine to walk into her kitchen or den. To the outside world this might seem like a bad deal, to pay to see his ex-wife in such a limited way or some nights not at all, but Bill doesn’t care. He pays me week after week without complaint.

“Lisa,” Bill asked me tonight, “What’s this journal entry mean? The one that says ‘Water Heater’?”

Besides the hourly charge, Bill pays me a few bucks to track Janine’s comings and goings. I jot down whenever Janine gets groceries or works in her garden. Normally it’s easy money, but last week it got complicated. On Saturday, a man named Jeremy stopped over and had sex with Janine. I knew his name was Jeremy because of how loudly and persistently Janine kept screaming it. After they finished screwing, I noticed a truck down the block delivering a water heater to one of my neighbors. I wrote that down in the journal instead of the truth.

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