It’s a sad fact that wine and gym memberships cost money, so unless you’re part of the Kardashian/Jenner clan, you have to show up to work every weekday after a protracted battle with your alarm clock.
Next time your dad calls you out for scrolling through Instagram at the dinner table (rude), politely but firmly tell him to fuck off, because your Insta addiction is all his fault.
With inauguration day looming over the nation like the smoke and ash spewing from the top of a soon-to-erupt volcano, sometimes it seems like there’s nothing we can do but despair.
If your idea of a good time is watching Lady Gaga play herself with a bad accent and/or listening to people murder each other creatively while you cover your eyes, you’re in luck.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m gonna assume the first two weeks of January went a little something like this: 1) Catch a glimpse of your bloated, hungover body on New Year’s Day. 2) Lose your shit and decide to 3) start a cleanse. 4) Abandon said cleanse within 48 hours because pizza exists.
On Monday, the president of the Planned Parenthood Action Fund (PPFA) said that the demand for IUDs has increased by 900 percent since Donald Trump was elected to office, and normally, I would normally call bullshit on a statistic that high.
It’s like, the first rule of feminism to trust no fuckboy, but there’s a difference between having a healthy sense of paranoia and literally branding your hubby’s marital status into his skin.
Everyone knows that organic stuff is supposed to be good for you, even if the reason why is pretty unclear. (Something about pesticides?) Tbh this usually means it tastes fucking terrible, but we grin and bear it because how else are we supposed to get glowing skin like Beyoncé?
