Too excited to trust that this will happen and be awesome, because MONTY PYTHON and all my emotions and desires. Also potentially reuniting: Outkast.
During my days in the exciting, fast-paced world of quantitative hedge funding, an industry whose compensatory excesses made launching this indie feminist nerd site possible, my firm hired John Cleese to entertain and then drink with us (he prepared jokes SPECIFICALLY for a quant-shop audience, because he’s a true professional) and I got to hug him and tell him it was the best moment of my life, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
Being a woman of color in the FDNY.
Spike Lee on his remake of Oldboy.
“You don’t want to be Mrs. Tampon do you?” my mother asked, her eyebrow raised. I stared at the white tile in the middle of the drug store, embarrassed, confused. I shook my head no while gripping the blue box, refusing to take the package of spongy maxi pads she was pushing toward me.
Cannibal tourism.
Yes! It’s dumb that we power-wash the outsides of our eggs here. But, since we do, you might as well keep sticking ’em in the fridge.
