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Home: The Toast

Happy Friday, Toasties! I finally watched Zootopia last night and am still processing. Why did none of you tell me about the distinctly human-like breasts on all the female animals?? Seems like the sort of thing SOMEONE* should have mentioned.

(* every reviewer)

Speaking of Zootopia, this week we had Sulagna’s If Jason Bateman Were Your Boyfriend

“Perhaps it’s best if you go after all, Jeremy.”

Mallory’s rewritten Bible verses keep getting better and better, as do the deleted comments.

I Kissed Dating Goodbye roundtable

ABBEY FENBERT IS A TREASURE: “What’s the Past got? Plague, feudalism, no Netflix. Medicine is bugs eating you and/or ‘the robed man frowns.’ Birth control options that range from ‘convent’ to ‘death.’ Some Johnny Rufflesleeves mansplaining the luminiferous aether.”

Rosanna Beatrice on the pain, diagnosis, and unsatisfactory treatment of endometriosis is a must-read:

Patiently, politely, I had participated in months of reckless, hopeful subservience: of lying down while doctors tested and palpated and examined and queried, but never wholly explained their method — or my disease. It had been like watching slabs of ice slip past on a waking river. And now the tremor resurged and the river swelled to meet me. I began to shiver with anger at the prospect of decades of reckless and hopeful subservience: altering the course of my life by having a child, or going mad with medication, or spending my time sitting through support group meetings and specialist appointments for a barely believable disease.

Leah Reich’s tribute to Oz:

A human has needs beyond fresh air, decent food, and freedom. But a human also needs friendship, affection, trust, non-violent physical touch. Oz is about life on the inside, so it allows you to consider a lifetime of literally having to live inside—inside your own self, a place deep within you that you try to protect at all costs because everything and everyone wants to break it and you.

Oz creates artistic freedom through the virtue of constraint: It closes its characters in, and so it allows them to open up in very small, real ways.

Please, someone, pay Mo Moulton a lot of money to write a whole book about Dorothy L. Sayers.

Mallory is getting nostalgic. I’m not quite ready.

I hope you all have a delightful weekend! This is the first relatively chill no-plans weekend I’ve had in a solid eight weeks, and if I do not spend much of it in my pajamas + no bra I will consider it a loss.

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