I’m pretty much always willing to fight people on the internet to defend the honor and sympatheticness of Victoria Argent, which I guess is the nerd girl equivalent of Cleaning this Gun in the presence of your daughter’s suitors.
Man, I love my fat, sick body an awful lot, probably more than I ever had in my life, even back when it was thinner and less broken. I am both genuinely proud of things like swimming long distances or the increased number of push-ups I can do and also dumb bro aesthetic things like flexing in the mirror or marveling at my stomach muscles.
And I want to end this with a “an I’m not ashamed of that” but let’s be real, I totally am. I know absolutely that being fat and diabetic makes me probably the least qualified to have any positive feelings about my dumb body.
I talk a lot of shit about people who believe dumb conspiracy theories, considering how many dumb conspiracy theories I basically believe.
In my defense, Mark Ruffalo still doesn’t know how buildings work.
So, as far as I can tell, Batman was on a hunger strike only because he missed his maman Tzipporah. Once he got to video chat with her he ate and now he’s playing happily.
I realize this sounds insane, but I think one of my kittens made and posted a sad text post while I was in the shower.
I just want people to know that my estranged brother once, in the middle of a particularly bad manic episode gave a speech in front of a bunch of academic colleagues at his prestigious university about “bringing Lacanian literary theory to the masses.” For years afterwards people (officially sane professional people) would earnestly thank him for his inspiring talk.
And like, I still kind of hate my brother, but I also still kind of think that was one of his best moments.