No new apps, intense #lifehacks or complicated productivity systems here — just solid habits to get into for an ass-kicking 2015.
El: You didn’t appreciate me when I made latkes.
Dannielle: Well. I don’t even remember that, so.
El: Really?
Dannielle: No! I don’t.
El: Seriously? The pictures are on Facebook!
Dannielle Owens-Reid just interviewed her ex on Autostraddle.
Make something satisfying and totally over-the-top with these recipes stuffed with goodness. And with other foods you love.
via EXCUSE ME: Kristen Stewart Has Maybe-Romantic Times On The Beach With Her Maybe-Girlfriend:
These pictures do little to confirm or deny the alleged romantic relationship between the perpetually sour-faced Stewart and her adorable friend. What we can tell you is that it appeared to be a magical weekend, and that some degree of snuggling appears to have transpired.
If Kristen Stewart ever whisked me away for a romantic weekend on a Hawaiian private beach, I would rub SPF 85 on her lower back and feed her pineapple slices to her heart’s content. We would sip rum cocktails with little umbrellas in them and hold hands as we strolled along the shore, the pristine waves lapping at our feet. Later, Kristen would dazzle me with her talent at the resort’s limbo competition.
Girlhood can be a hell of an optical illusion: when you’re living it, it’s just one day after the next. It’s only after you reach the other side that you’re able to look back and realize how the years between birth and young adulthood were often exercises in gender norms. Sometimes, these were as benign as being given a Barbie for your birthday when you want a Tonka Truck (or vice versa). Other times, these exercises in What Should Be Male and What Should Be Female—like being made to wear clothing that felt like a cage—seem violent in hindsight, and were frequently met with resistance that was dismissed by parents and guardians as ‘temper tantrums.’
George Sibley is having a bad time.
Sauce: http://www.autostraddle.com/salem-episodes-7-and-8-recap-fck-colonialism-269974/
I read each update about Ayotzinapa and think about riding a public bus in Juárez, years and years ago. The school bus, gutted inside and painted a dull brown outside, cost me almost nothing to take me from one part of inner Ciudad Juárez back to the international bridge linked to El Paso. While it bounced and took sharp turns, I stared out the window at the city’s landscape, knowing that the bus I sat in resembles the same type of bus that transports maquiladoras to and from the factories. It is the same type of bus involved in their disappearances. For all we know, it is the same type of bus that dumps their bodies in the Juárez Valley. I think about the missing women.
And here’s where family drama, cultural context, the larger institutions of racism, and immigration policies get all muddled. Now, where is that immigrant who moved from Caracas to get a degree in the states to help me when I need him? (I mean, I have all these questions, Dad, about who I am and where I come from, what languages I should speak and what my place is as an American.)
Paige McCullers makes people mad. Real mad. She’s probably the most polarizing lesbian character I’ve written about in all my life, and my career spans all the way back to The L Word, OK? I know Jenny Schecter.
