When I was younger, I resented Thanksgiving. I hated that we hosted it at our house, and I hated the people we invited; sometimes, I even hated the food.
This weekend at dinner, I turned to my friend and asked her,
“Did your family ever send a barrel?”
Based on the blank, slightly confused face that responded in silence, I realized that answer was no. Read More Barrel Nostalgia
Despite my qualms about its conflicting image as workers’ rights champion/kiddie pornographer, I still sometimes shop at American Apparel. What can I say? They have decently priced basic items. Plus, I’d feel hypocritical criticizing only one brand when I’m not willing to grill the rest of my clothes on the ethics of their origins. (“What about you, French stripe tee? Are you made of organic cotton? Do you even speak French? YOU SICKEN ME.”) Read More Mom-erican Apparel
(this is a response to Olivia Marudan’s post,” An Unexpected Education”)
“You’re a fucking selfish bitch who does nothing and wants to destroy me. You’re insane!” Read More “…You’re Insane!”