Watching “Justin Bieber: Never Say Never” made me feel baby crazy.

Is that weird?

We watched that Justin Bieber documentary last night, because it looked good. F#ck yeah we did. We don’t hate. We’ll watch whatever. Yes! I think that, between the two of us, before last night, we were able to identify exactly one chorus to one Justin Bieber song (I was like baby baby baby), and neither of us had any idea of how old the kid actually is (I thought he was more like Taylor Swift’s age. Joey was totally clueless.) but in the end, the reviews looked good and so we watched it. Turns out: IT’S GOOD! And while we won’t personally be blasting any Bieber tunes from the car any time in the near future, this snugglepuss totally won our hearts. I mean, he like totally won our hearts. His childhood, his little bitty sadness, his hurt vocal chords, his songs about lonely girls, his desire to be a normal little boy running around Ontario with just a hoodie and his buddies and a song in his heart…

I think I almost lost it…OMG THIS LITTLE CHILD. Look at you! I want to wrap you up in a Power Rangers blanket and give you a mug of hot cocoa and sing you songs about happy birds when you’re feeling blue. I want to stuff you in my purse and take you home and tuck you in and read you chapters from like, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets until your little eyelids get heavy and you fall asleep. I want to snuggle you to death?

What I’m saying is: Watching this Justin Bieber documentary was like watching two hours of sneezy kitten videos on youtube. I almost had a freaking aneurism from all the cute. Cute attack! Holy snuggles sh1t! That crap doesn’t make you boy crazy. It makes you baby crazy.

DIGRESSION: Back in 1997, I was convinced that I would marry Taylor Hanson and everything would be all right that way. It was a terrible, tragic, desperate love, and I commiserate with every single one of these Bieber Fever girls and their crying and their obsession and their fan fiction and all that time they spend making signs and painting glitter on their eyelids and stacking board games on top of desk chairs to get high enough so you can start taping posters onto your bedroom ceiling because you’ve run out of space on your actual walls.



But things are different now. I’m a grown-up? Ish. I’m a writer, so I’ll never really be a grown-up, but I’m grown-up enough to know the difference between the way I felt about teenage idols when I was twelve and the way I feel about them now…IT’S VERY DIFFERENT. And while I still totally harbor my celebrity crushes (what girl doesn’t?) the types of celebrities I have crushes on now are typically much older (#Clooney) or like, white lightning wide receivers for the Green Bay Packers. Things change, you know? But now I really truly do understand what it means to be like, a boy-crazy, life-long teenybopper getting into your late twenties: You no longer want to marry the teen boy sensation du jour. You want to like, adopt him.

Justin Bieber, will you be my child? Just kidding. I mean, sort of.

Every former (and current) teenybopping girl should watch this movie, even if you don’t know anything about Justin Bieber. It doesn’t matter which decade you were teenybopping in. It will bring back memories of your days of ‘NSync and Hanson and Backstreet mania. Or maybe like, New Kids on the Block? I don’t know how old you are. It’ll be like a bonding moment with you and the TV and all these other girls who are you fifteen or twenty years ago–screaming and stomping and crying and getting confused by this strange activity of the security guards. Lay off! We’re twelve! What kind of damage can we do?

(Lots, I say. What is more powerful than the pure, undiluted love of a teenage girl? NOTHING. Rhinoceros mode! Stampede! Stampede! We were goddesses then.)

But I’d lay off the wine. Unless you want to be a blubbering train wreck. One glass of Chardonnay ONLY for this one, girls. Anyway, that’s my sh1t.

Peace, love, and Justin Bieber floating in a heart, playing his acoustic guitar and singing at Madison Square Garden,

#usmile #ismile


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The Speculative: It is the best kind of writing.

#JulieHeffernan #notmine

Speculative is a word used to describe any kind of character-driven fiction that employs a science fiction or fantastical element as backdrop, or even just a piece of its setting. It is an interstitial genre, and difficult to place. Girls who write Speculative fiction, like Aimee Bender or Karen Russell, are often marginalized as “Slipstream,” which is a kind of synonym for Speculative. Nobody knows what to do with these writers. They’re writing small and complicated literary stories about fantastical things. Do we call this literature? Or do we call it genre? It’s a stupid question, because of course it’s literature, but what makes it literature? What makes it something more complicated and artistic, not written merely for entertainment or escape, but as a means of truth and enrichment and exploration?

The Speculative is special, and it’s different than any “hard genre” writing, because unlike Hard Scifi or Fantasy, the Speculative’s main focus is not typically the fantastical element or world at work, but the human experience going on in the foreground. In Speculative fiction (this includes film, TV, any kind of written medium) the fantastical element is merely a backdrop for characters and ideas, and its existence is often symbolic, and this symbolism is often oblique or complicated. Or, the fantastical world or element, in some way, parallels the inner-story of the characters and situations. This creates a cool, attractive richness. It is the best kind of writing.


Examples of Recent Speculative Film:

Another Earth (2011) – When scientists discover, quite literally, “another Earth,” which seems to be a parallel of our own, a young girl who makes a terrible mistake copes with the constant unpredictability of life. Yep. That’s my blurb! This is a very good movie.

Take Shelter (2011) – Kind of Biblical, Michael Shannon plays a rural father who begins to have apocalyptic visions of a deadly storm to come. The movie wrestles too much with the possibility of schizophrenia for me, but in the end, it’s terrifying and a little mystical.

28 Days Later (2002) – Very much extremely awesome. Cillian Murphy kills it in this zombie movie that’s a lot about zombies but more about the human struggle going on amidst a very “realistic” zombie apocalypse.

Last Night (1998) – A Canadian movie starring Sandra Oh that I like, recommend to everyone. It all takes place on one night–It’s like a Canadian, more depressing 200 Cigarettes on the eve of the apocalypse–What if the world was ending at midnight? What would you do? Where would you go? This movie is light on the scifi and explanations, which is actually what makes it so strange.

Cloverfield (2008) – Well, I would argue that it’s Speculative. I really like Cloverfield, and I think that this new “found media” riff on the mockumentary is a fantastic sub-genre. And I think that, while action and violence sort of take the forefront in Cloverfield, the real f#cked-upedness about it lies in the small, human drama, and the rescue story.

Melancholia (2011) – This is the one I actually want to talk about to illustrate the Speculative, and what I think it means…

In Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia, a rogue planet (aptly named Melancholia) is discovered to be on path to collide with Earth. Its collision course is mostly up for debate–many scientists seem to think it will merely pass us by, creating a fantastic but harmless celestial event, while others think it’s the end of the world. Meanwhile, here on Earth, character Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) has been tasked with caring for her clinically depressed sister Justine (Kirsten Dunst) on her vast estate in the English countryside. Barring the end, which I won’t give away here, this is the entire premise of Melancholia.

The movie is strange. It is rife with anachronisms, such as Justine’s inexplicable “American” accent and demeanor, while Claire and the rest of her family appear to be British. Also, Keifer Sutherland plays Claire’s American husband whose infinite wealth is also inexplicable, along with his mansion–the number of rooms seems to grow and change, and at times, feels like the Ritz, while at other times, feels like a quaint country cottage. In all of our time spent in this movie, not once do we leave the estate, and any time any of the characters tries, it is nearly always on horseback, and as they approach a bridge that leads off the property (and presumably into town), the horses invariably start to act funny. They’ll lay down, or turn around and gallop the other way. None of the characters really questions this. It is merely a part of their world. The horses act noisy and weird all throughout the movie, and though we don’t know why, we can guess that it has something to do with Melancholia. Also, as the planet gets closer, it begins to leach off the oxygen in the Earth’s atmosphere, causing our characters to become lightheaded or faint–again, this is only once dealt with directly and by a layperson. Unlike a typical disasterĀ  movie, such as M. Night Shyamalan’s Signs, we’re not given any newscasters on TV to denote an outside world, and there’s only one (rather simplistic) foray into the internet. There are also Justine’s unexplained midnight treks into the forest–She goes alone and lies in the brush by the river, and, as if a goddess, bathes naked in the blue light of Melancholia. On this, she’s never confronted. She is merely observed. Nearly everything is oblique and unexplained in Melancholia–from the mundane accent discrepancies to the spooked horses and the virgin goddess imagery.

These inconsistencies, phenomena, and the sense of isolation, I think, lend to a film predicated on idea–we’re in a movie that, rather than illustrating its themes and ideas through traditional means of plot and characterization, explores them from some intellectual distance. We’re not meant to fully understand these things like why Kirsten Dunst’s character seems American and why they never leave the estate, because these things don’t matter. It is almost as if–the characters cannot leave the estate because, Von Trier wants us to believe, nothing exists on the outside of the estate–all that exists is this, the setting of the story, because that’s all there is, and there is no life going on anywhere else, because it’s just a story, and that’s all there is. The characters don’t even know. The irony is Lynchian. It’s almost meta. In the grand scheme, the characters of Melancholia, despite their complication, are elaborate strawmen, and the setting, despite its beauty, is just stage design. What matters is the idea. This is often the case with Speculative fiction. The writer is attempting to get at something that seems “ungettable,” and so they use a fantastical means to explore it in ways that, in any ordinary setting, would be too difficult or impossible. In this case, the characters are vessels for idea, and the fantastical element, the planet Melancholia, is a vessel as well.

The idea here is depression, or melancholia (if you will?), a deep exploration of it. Von Trier uses the planet Melancholia’s “death dance” with Earth as a parallel to the inner story of Claire and Justine to fully “get at” the idea. As Melancholia nears, Justine’s depression begins to yield, and of the planet, she becomes a kind of worshipper. Claire, on the other hand, grows more and more anxious, more frantic with fear that the planet will hit, and the world will end. What does it mean? I don’t really know. I know that Justine’s depression somehow enables her to cope with (what could be) the apocalypse, while the rest of the “sane” characters cannot cope. I know that both the characters and the planet serve Von Trier’s idea and exploration of sadness. In the end, whatever happens, we’re left with ONLY this exploration, no answers and no conclusions. If you watch the movie, you’ll see that the ending, in terms of action, seems finite, but it is, thematically, wide open.

This kind of thing is the case with most of Von Trier’s work. For some people, it’s a complaint. For me–Melancholia is one of the most beautiful and moving films I’ve ever seen. It’s the Speculative.

Anyway, this is a pointless blog post other than to illuminate this “genre” of the Speculative for people who might care or be interested, or people who are really liking this recent turn a lot of films are making toward the quiet science fiction, or the human story amidst the apocalypse. People like me. The whole thing makes sense to me, and it’s my favorite kind of story. These stories, and these movies especially, tend to be beautiful and well-rendered–That’s what I think. Their quietude lends to a feeling of rarity, preciousness. They are gems that sparkle in strange ways. They are made with care, because, without the great big heavy stones of plot and formula to hold them down, they have to be. They’re airy and chilly. Part of their appeal is that they float in the air–but they’re not light. Their nuance is made of plausibility within the impossible, which is a large part of why they’re so strong and so effective.

The Speculative can also, I think, show up in a quiet kind of horror movie, like Let the Right One In (2008), also beautiful and well-rendered. I actually think that horror movies have been doing this for a much longer time than fantasy or scifi–Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), Carrie (1976), and The Thing (1982) are all “old” movies that value their stories, ideas, and characters, and that prescribe, in some way, to the Speculative. David Lynch, also, sort of dabbles in this, but while similar, his style of filmmaking is its own thing entirely. The fantasy is more of a feeling in his movies, or like, an infection. It’s not a “reality.” It’s the inside of David Lynch’s weird, haunted brain.

Speculatingly Yours,


"Harry, I have no idea where this will lead us, but I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange."

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MY TV HEROES: Chick Edition, Pt. I

These girls teach me to be strong. A strong WOMAN. Because being strong is not a man’s trait, and what’s so wrong with being a girl, anyway?

1. BUFFY SUMMERS (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)



Buffy is perhaps a little more “masculine” than some of the other women on this list. She is not only a fighter, but a true loner. She doesn’t nurture, because she doesn’t have time. Her friendships, while meaningful, often prove to make Buffy’s life more difficult, and so her willingness and attempt to dedicate herself so fully to her friends is extraordinary. We’ve often seen Buffy mistreat her friends, or distance herself. This is because, like Jack Shephard in Lost, Buffy walks alone in her position of leadership, and this forces all interpersonal matters to fall by the wayside. Buffy is selfless in that she recognizes herself as an idea above an individual. She understands that, to be the Slayer is, not just to save lives, but to be the very embodiment of heroic. Her job is more important than her identity. To live this life is to live a life of complete isolation, a theme that is thoroughly explored throughout the series Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Buffy is my hero, I think, because she bears her isolation with ferocity and grace. She does not bemoan her role, nor does she fight it. She is willing to recognize that there are forces and things in this world that are more important than the individual, and this is hard, I think, for most people to accept.

Also, understand that, when I say Buffy is “masculine,” I don’t mean she’s more like a man. I just mean that she’s a lot of things that are more commonly associated with being a man. Buffy is such a strong female character particularly because she shows how a lot of these traits I’m talking about may be considered “masculine,” but they are not always gendered. The word “masculine” does not always have to be rhetorical. Sometimes, it is what it is.



Kate can do everything the boys can do. Seriously. Though Kate, unlike Buffy, is not “masculine.” She is, I think, intensely “feminine.” Much of her appeal is soft, nurturing, and sexual in nature. She is neither stoic nor lonesome–despite her propensity to run, or her ability to fend for herself. Remember, much of what Kate does, she does for love. And while she is not selfless, she is certainly not selfISH. Sort of like John Locke (at least in the early seasons), Kate offers a much-needed feminine, analytical counter to the highly masculine “do now/think later” leadership offered up by Jack and Sawyer. She uses emotion and empathy where Jack and Sawyer may just feel like shooting their guns at people. Both are equally important factors in keeping people alive on a mystical island infested with Others, polar bears, the smoke monster, and Danielle Rousseau’s booby-traps.

Also, I’m just thinking about how, as the series progresses, Kate becomes an extreme nurturer for both Jack and Sawyer. Both men, at one time or another, lay their heads down in her lap. This is part of her role as a hero on the show.

ASIDE: I feel like, before I saw Lost, had I been in a plane crash and gotten deserted on a magical island with a bunch of other people, I would have been weak and scared and sort of helpless (like Shannon). But since watching Lost, I feel like, in a time of crisis, I’ll try to be more like Kate–strong, independent, and in control. A leader. And there’s nothing I love more about Lost (other than the whole “people coming together in a time of crisis” thing) than all of the women in Lost, and the episodes in which Sun and Kate and Claire and maybe like, Rousseau or Juliet, all get together and go on a hunt, or a hike in the jungle, or they go on a secret mission to the Staff so that Sun can look at her baby on the ultrasound machine. No boys allowed! These episodes seem so important to me. Themes of fertility and femininity are just running rampant Lost, which is part of why I love it.

3. CORDELIA CHASE (Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel)


Cordy is a champion. Angel teaches her how to fight with swords, and that’s awesome. Like a lot of the women on this list, she plays the role of both nurturer to a great hero AND a hero herself, and she goes through a profound transformation. Cordy is not merely Angel’s Girl Friday. Not that there’s anything wrong with Girl Fridays–I’m just saying. In the end, she’s kind of like a savior. She’s Angel’s angel. In my opinion, she wins first prize in the Buffyverse competition for Greatest Hero of Them All. And that’s really all I have to say about that.



While Summer Roberts may not be fighting evil or saving the world or like, rescuing Jack from the Others, she’s really no one to f#ck with. In fact, she’s like a skinny little pillar of F#CK YOU. She also plays nurturer to a neurotic hero (well, I think Seth Cohen is pretty heroic) while simultaneously kicking ass and, you know, changing the world. Summer’s a good antithesis to the kind of academic elitism that I hate. She DOES go to an Ivy League school, and she DOES tour the country with an environmentalist cause. She’s intelligent, aware, and incredibly motivated–WITHOUT having any pretensions about it. She is simply Summer. Her willingness to make certain sacrifices for her relationship with Seth demonstrate a kind of loyalty to love as well. For Summer, love and commitment are just as important as her professional development. She sees her relationship with Seth to be, not a hindrance to her growth as a human being, but a part of it. While this may not be true for everyone, we have to give credit to Summer, because she is showing maturity by being true to herself. It’s something that I think a lot of girls can learn from–Being strong is not about doing what others expect of you or what other people think is right. It’s about doing what YOU think is right and sticking to your guns no matter what. Like Summer.

5. VERONICA MARS (Veronica Mars)


Veronica Mars is the daughter of a private investigator. She’s a detective. Like Buffy, she is a masculine hero. She walks alone. The men in her life, with the exception of her father, often cause her great despair, and her abandonment issues due to the absence of her mother make her noncommittal and antagonistic. She doesn’t have many friends. In fact, Veronica’s only non-familial relationship is with a boy she, in fact, saves in the very first episode, Wallace Fennel, who serves as her Boy Friday for most of the show.

Veronica is one of my heroes because she’s a dog who’s been kicked, and she’s biting, but she’s not giving up. She’s ruthless, but she’s not heartless. At one point in the series, she attempts a more nurturing role during her relationship with Logan Echolls–but that ultimately fails due to her trust issues and serious emotional unavailability. The loss of Logan, while inevitable, nearly destroys her. She’s a little cold, sure. But she’s not dead.

The thing about Veronica Mars, despite its poppy aesthetic, is that it’s not a fluffy, happy, kid-friendly show. It is, in fact, quite dark, dealing heavily in issues like incest, rape, murder, and class warfare. While it takes place in the sunny suburbs of San Diego, thematically, it is anything BUT sunny, which is probably part of why it only lasted three seasons. Nonetheless, it’s a fantastic show, and Rob Thomas (who also created Party Down) is really really good at hurting his characters and allowing them sadness and flaws, which, as a writer, I have to say, is pretty damn admirable.

Anyway, that’s all my chick heroes for now. There may be a part II in the works. What about Lorelai Gilmore? What about Chloe Sullivan and Ally McBeal? I’m just saying. But who knows?


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I kind of get this, but…

…I kind of don’t. I think it’s unfair. I’m talking about this collage thingy. I saw it posted on facebook today. It had been shared a bunch of times, and a lot of people were giving it the thumbs-up. Innocently, of course. I saw a lot of comments like, “The girls on top are disgustingly skinny” or “I wish the ones on the bottom were still alive, because they’re so sexy.” Or something like that. But I think the whole thing is kind of weird. I think it’s unfair to modern men AND modern women, actresses and normal women alike, and I think it’s a little hateful actually, and my answer to the question being asked in the picture (“When did THIS become hotter than THIS?”) is: I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT. IT NEVER DID.

First, I think that creating standards for beauty, no matter what they are, is harmful. I’m no uber-feminist. In fact, most of the time, feminism annoys me, but theĀ  fact is, no matter how thin Keira Knightley might appear in this picture or how much plastic surgery Heidi Montag’s had, should we be judging them? The message here is misogynistic. Too much value is placed on these iconic female bodies of yore, and we’re given an unfair assessment on female bodies of today. It’s a comparison, and a shameful one at that. In what world, and on what level, is Nicole Richie comparable to Marilyn Monroe? You’ve got to be kidding me. Also, this thing seems to say, “Skinny women are ugly! Curvy women are beautiful! Where have all the curvy women gone? Take a stand for the curvy women!” Like, we need to take a stand for them? I think they can stand up all by themselves just fine. And I’ll give you some curvy women. In a second. There are plenty. Anyway, by thinking this is clever, you’re just perpetuating the notion that women need constantly be compared with and pitted against one another–the unhealthy ones and the healthy alike–even when these comparisons are unfounded and stupid. It’s objectification. And weird! (We get enough objectification and weird on a daily basis just walking around at work or standing at the bus stop. We don’t need any more of it from you.)

Regardless of your reaction–This type of thing is judgmental, and it’s bullsh1t. Some women are slight. Some have fuller figures. Neither is more “beautiful” or “correct” than the other, and I think most sane people would agree. Also, more to the point–it’s no surprise that unhealthy women exist now–just like they always have. There are overweight women and there are underweight women. While I do agree that modern fashion does somewhat fetishize the “underweight” woman, the fact is, we seem to fetishize and obsess over women’s bodies no matter how skinny or fat they are, so to make some sort of unsubstantiated claim about what is beautiful and what is not, is arbitrary and preposterous, because either way, we’re taking it upon ourselves to judge and label women’s bodies, and this “collage” that’s meant to like, point out some sort of negative shift in what humans find attractive, and also, in some way, to take a stand against today’s apparent “negative societal pressures” on women to be skinny, is perpetrating the exact same bullsh1t it thinks it’s preaching against–

–It’s judgmental and drawing conclusions about the female form as if it owns the female form. It manipulates its viewers into drawing unfair comparisons and forming unfair conclusions about women. It is, ultimately, hateful, hypercritical, and ignorant of the female form AND women. Suck it!

(Also, it doesn’t take into account that, um, women just walking around, non-airbrushed on the beach look different than perfectly posed pin-up girls bent over in high-key lighting–no matter what decade you’re in. Seriously. And Elizabeth Taylor, in her day, was a THIN WOMAN. What, do you think just because she’s wearing an old-fashioned bathing suit instead of a string bikini that she’s not thin?)

In a related point, and just because it personally pisses me off, to include Kirsten Dunst in a category of “too thin” is ridiculous. Watch Melancholia. She’s not too thin. She’s got pretty nice ta-tas, and she’s extremely tall. Like a statue! Also, just being “thin” doesn’t qualify you as “unhealthy.” I don’t even think she looks unhealthy here. She absolutely doesn’t carry any extra weight, but since when is that a bad thing? I just think she looks f#cking tall and maybe a little gawky. She’s not as “shapely” as some of these women in the old fashioned photos, certainly not as shapely as Marilyn Monroe–but nobody is, so that’s a little unfair and beside the point. Since when is a slim or athletic figure cause for concern? Or worse, judgment from haters like the one who created this collage?

NEW POINT, KIND OF: Here’s another thing I want to say about this–There are plenty of healthy, natural actresses that exist in our time, just as there were plenty of extremely thin actresses that existed back in the day. Scarlet Johansson, Blake Lively, Amanda Seyfried, Charlize Theron, Katherine Heigl–all of them are young, natural, healthy, and might I say, near-iconic beauties who dudes and women alike (at least the ones I spend time with) find to be paragons of female sexuality.

#pretty #woman

Also, in terms of popularity, talent, and the seriousness of their work, actresses like Scarlet Johansson and Charlize Theron are MUCH more comparable to, say, Marilyn Monroe or Elizabeth Taylor than the “actresses” being compared to them above. I’m just saying. Like, do you consider Heidi Montag to be an actress OR model worthy of comparison to Marilyn Monroe or Bettie Page? No offense meant to Heidi, and this is not a judgment on her, but come on.

So yeah, I don’t know who these people like, hang out with (the person who made the collage and the people who agree with it), or why they think that people actually think that unhealthily skinny bodies are the definition of beauty these days–but I think that whoever they are, they’re confused. Nobody puts posters of Nicole Richie or Heidi Montag or some runway model on their walls. They put posters of like, Alexis Texas on their walls.


All of that said, I’m sure if Audrey Hepburn, Katharine Hepburn, Vivian Leigh, and Grace Kelly had been running around in bikinis in Cabo circa 1958, people would have been equally worried and equally scandalized by their highly-visible rib cages. Skinny women, anorexia–These are not like, new fads, especially not in Hollywood. They have always existed, and they are not funny things. Look around. Women have not really changed at all. Fashion has changed, the ways in which women are photographed have changed, but women have not, and unhealthily thin women are no more “socially acceptable” or “hot” now than they’ve ever been. Maybe in the world of Calvin Klein ads and runway shows, but not in any real kind of world. In the real world, it’s still scary. It’s not sexy. It’s not comparable to sexy. It’s not even in the same ballpark as sexy, because it’s severe and too deadly and too real, and just because these women show up in the tabloids a lot, that doesn’t mean any one is lusting after them. The situation is too dire for lust.

Anyway, but what really freaks me out is like, how much we obsess over losing baby weight. (#nonsequitur) Oh my god. It’s a whole thing. It’s like, nobody gives a sh1t about the fact that you just carried a human being inside of you for nine months. No time for back-up! You’re fat! (But lose that weight, and we’ll congratulate you, because that’s our right, I guess.)


In conclusion: To me, it’s beautiful, as long as it’s healthy, as long as it’s real. Pear-shaped, apple-shaped, hourglass, athletic, wafish, whatever. In my experience, this is also how most women think, and also most men. If your boyfriend is making you feel bad about your body, then your boyfriend is an asshole. If you feel bad about your body, but your body is healthy–it’s probably because you’re making unfair comparisons, like in the collage above. I know I am guilty of this from time to time. Anyway, that’s my sh1t. Not meant to stir up anybody else’s shit, because that’s not what I’m about. Just my sh1t, on my awesome blog. #boobs #boobsblog


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It’s Tebow Time!

Not only is Tim Tebow the son of god, sent to save our souls and usher them into eternity as the 2012 apocalypse nears…

…but he’s also Kal-el, sent from the planet Krypton to fight and defeat the aliens which will come to Earth and CAUSE the 2012 apocalypse.

Plus, he’s f#cking hot.

(this is what comes up when you google “jesus christ”):

It’s Tebow Time!


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Coffee maker broke. Boyfriend uses tools.




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eye heart amy smart


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