He deserves every ounce of New Yorker you can throw at him.

His father is rolling in his grave.

My favorite part is where this fact gets somehow distorted to the 80s.

Like, clearly someone just misread it and then reposted it as the 80s.

LiveJournal sent me a congratulations the other day.

1. I forgot I still had it.

2. That was NOT a nice number.

Sing it with me:

Everything he touches turns to shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Which, you know, NYC warned everyone about 10 years ago, but, HEY, WHY WOULD WE LISTEN TO THEM?

Dear goddess in heaven, that man does not have two fucking brain cells to talk to each other.

What a fucking waste of air.

I feel like that last clause is the downfall of literally the last 60 years.

As a Shakespeare nerd, claiming he ...

I mean...

Look, the guy wrote a few types of jokes:

1. UR MUM
2. dirty, dirty, dirty jokes
3. LOL FRANCE

The language is just old. Unfortunately, some asshole lawyer COULD make Shakes fit the standard.

"I was ABSOLUTELY told that the Democrats would be bringing knives to the gun fight. What the fuck are they doing bringing guns?" --a whole lot of Republicans looking at the results from Virginia right now

I literally wrote a program for work about how binary code is a direct descendant of weaving.

I even have looms for work.

I'm saving this video, and also, warping a loom breaks my brain.

Yeah, there's no way in hell he's Woody's son.

Xennial here.

Can we bring back the part where LEGO wasn't gendered AF?

There was a whole ad campaign about how little girls liked building and "what it is is beautiful".

None of this bullshit about making it pink or "easier".

JUST LET GIRLS BUILD LEGO DAMMIT.

Also, there's a whole account out there from a college baseball coach.

Coach has a couple of daughters.

Daughters essentially have DOZENS of big brothers on those teams. Players go to the GIRLS' games.

I'm just thinking of that pediatric surgeon who gets patients a super hero costume and "flies" them to the OR.

Happens to be a male surgeon.

Sounds super unpaternal to me. Those kids aren't his kids. 🙄

this will sound incredibly silly to anyone under like 30, but it is so weird that the 70s and 90s are only 20 years apart

(this is a roundabout way of saying "stop asking the slop bots to put Trump's face on everything, we already all see it too much, you need to go outside and put your phone in a faraday cage for 48 hours")

I mean, people still assume I took Husband's last name.

A staffer at Kiddo's school last year never ONCE got either of our names right. Even *when it was on all the paperwork and the emails staring her in the face*.

She could not grasp that we do not share a last name *and* are married.

LOVED how Husband's job at first gave time off, then hazard pay, then only masks, and then fucked over every employee on the front lines.

It was all a real hoot for us introverts.

Super adore the part where I STILL mask AT WORK because I have a pneumonia scar and a penchant for awful respiratory infections.

Also, loved how ALL the "precautionary" advice and protocols were laser-focused to suburban households with extra income. The poor and the city folk could go to hell.

Loved having a baby who got COVID a MONTH before the vaccine was approved for babies.
Deeply grateful I'd passed on immunity through the vaccine I got while pregnant.

Loved being stuck inside a 500 sq. ft. apartment in a city ravaged by the disease, in sight of the epicenter.

Yep, totally loved being alone in my prenatal appointments. Particularly the one where I learned I had miscarried. That was great.

The one that went full-term, we got to sneak him in to the scans a few times.. until people started refusing the vaccine, and he was banished, again.

Tell me you didn't live where you heard sirens for weeks at a time without telling me you didn't live where we got hit the hardest.

I'm a fucking introvert, man, and it was TRAUMATIZING. (And a LOT of people didn't get paid all that much.)

I dunno if I want that more to put on my wall, or to eat off of and be like, OMG, I FOUND EARTH every time I finished a meal.

This is the most accurate description of my brain most days.

The malice I keep expecting.

The sheer fucking incompetence is OVERWHELMING.

I do not understand how these chucklefucks can WALK AND BREATHE at the same time.

Holy. Shit. This is Reid Wiseman's video he took with his iPhone while at the moon 🌙

Made fast friends with a new coworker once by agreeing to share a gargantuan slice of cake from the counter after a work lunch.

This entire thread.

I am many things, but first and foremost I am a Jersey Girl and that means diners.

Diners on Sunday mornings, diners between rehearsal and a show, diners AFTER a show, diners halfway between home and my grandparents, diners for a date.

THIS.

I get the same goddamn thing.

I'm opening the menu because I have to read things or my brain goes mad.

(Ok, maybe I'm contemplating a chocolate drink.)

...I dunno, I feel the Italians would honor it, as fellow Mediterraneans.

If you are not from Jersey or haven’t lived in Jersey you cannot comment on diner culture. Your state does not understand or experience true diner culture. You are an outsider to diners.

This is not up for debate.

I walk up to rehearsal for a show in NYC. Outside the theatre is a young man in a Phillies shirt. He has the keys to the theatre.
I fall instantly, irrevocably in love.
I tell him, "You're a Phillies fan, too? The Marlins are killing us right now."
We baseball for 20 minutes.

That would be Husband