Turns out, Pippi Longstocking inspires the strangest people. For January, I’ve been staying and helping out in a small farm in Ontario, Canada that looks like Pippi was at the very least involved with the building of it. The owner and his tenants could definitely be the “Where Are They Now?” of the stories from […]
This is the undesired ending to a two-year-long story.
I think I thought of the subject for this article about four months ago. Maybe more. And even while writing this right now (an hour away from being allowed to go home on a work day so slow that it’s hard to not nod off), I’m clicking through tabs instead of finishing the paragraph. I […]
Usually I can easily ignore the rambling of “Nature’s Children” like Shailene Woodley, Gwyneth Paltrow and the like. But after GOOP/Paltrow’s tip about steaming your vagina, well, I steamed all right. From my ears.
Hi, I’m Freckle, 28 years old and I can still get very seriously sad when people online — especially on so-called social media — ignore me. And it embarrasses me incredibly.
In a maddening (“maddening”) situation of “someone has to do it,” I spent half of January on the island of Curacao (Dutch Antilles, not Cuba, etc). Mister Freckle and I thought it was a nice half way meeting point between the US and the Netherlands, the amazing island itself came later into the decision.
Sesame Street continues to have amazing points about how to live your life. Tom Hiddleston and Cookie Monster were on to something when it comes to delayed gratification.
One nice thing about living in Europe is that you can be in another country in less than two hours, airplane not even necessary. For the weekend, I train-traveled around Belgium.
It can happen at any time: the supposedly sane colleague (maybe one of the few you relied on for your sanity in the workplace) says something stupid. And not on the level of “White chocolate is the best” but more of something out there, like “Our country is being destroyed by immigrants.” What to do? […]
So my plans of going to the USA are still in a very bumpy limbo. After loads of frustrations and anger attacks I tried to ask for help. Legal help.
We did it, kids! This year, at the arrival of Sinterklaas, there were Cheese Petes (it happened in Gouda), black-because-of-soot Petes, and rainbow Petes. Oh, and tons and tons of death threats, I’m-not-a-racist-you’re-politically-correct, and more fun kneejerks. Just like last year.
There are many things I want to do as freely as men do them. This time I don’t ask for much. Just the freedom of an not-judged crotch-grab.
You don’t have to worry, this isn’t about a white woman claiming to be part of the Natural Hair Movement. Nor about Lady Gaga’s song “Hair” (although I think she has a point with the sentence “I am my hair”).
A good reader makes a good writer, some writers say.
There are so many TV shows. With some, you don’t even have to make the decision of watching or quitting, they’re canceled (before their time). But what about the others?