Sméagol goes on a group tour catered for the over-60s demographic called The Magic of Andalusia! There are bright sunny days and informative talks about the Moorish architecture in Granada and a full day spent cheerfully being shown about limestone mountains and pine forests in Cazorla National Park.
These new ads for bleach are raw as hell and I'm honestly not ready to live and die in this world. I'm not strong enough. I'm soft and afraid and my bloodline is weak; I know this. Rome has lost its breed of noble bloods, and I'm the most lost out of anybody. Have you seen this? Are you prepared to meet God?
I don't want to talk about other ads you think are just as bad or worse. I want to talk about how much I hate this one. Last night Gene Demby made me realize I am not alone in this.
You've seen it, right? They won't stop playing it on Hulu, so I've seen it at this point roughly 30 times.
A good friend brings you chocolate and Midol when you’re on your period. A best friend replaces all of your glassware with Diva cups and puts a virus on your computer that makes it autoplay videos of soldiers returning home and reuniting with their dogs.
I can get a little giddy reflecting on all the times I have taken the opportunity
To explain things with history.
But today I must soberly discuss how unfortunate
It is that Trump’s popularity brings to the fore just how many men present
Their misogyny in a way reflects how grossly uneducated
They are.
You go to a party where you don't know anyone. You:
a) Go home. There's no point meeting people you probably won’t like.
b) Remind partygoers that after an examination, their pupils remain dilated, and they should avoid looking at bright lights in order to prevent damage.
c) Go over to the DJ booth and play some music you like.
Name: Mary Lennox, once-bratty orphan who has rather improved in her demeanor Location: Yorkshire, England, where the wind is always wutherin’ Size: Unknown, as owner Mr. Archibald Craven spends most of his time wandering the earth in a vain attempt to escape his sorrows
If Justin Bieber were my son, I would have a Cobb salad for lunch every day, and a big goblet of iced tea beside it. If the tea were sweetened or flavored in any way, I would send it back. I would never drink tap water.
If Justin Bieber were my son, I would say, "Well, then, maybe I need to speak to your manager" at least once a day.
