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Army: 12 dead, 31 wounded at Fort Hood - Crime & courts- msnbc.com →
Tumblr! How am I supposed to keep up with the news if you don’t alert me to these things?!?
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I almost forgot where I was...
I am listening to my Glee playlist and I almost started singing along.
That would have been really embarrassing.
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I think my new glasses are making me sick...
They are super cute though.
But, the constant dizzy feeling isn’t normal, right?
Link reblogged from Grace in Small Things with 53 notes
How many spaces should be left after a period or other concluding mark of punctuation? →
My world was turned upside-down when an associate in publishing told me that the trend is no longer two spaces after a period and soon it will become a rule. Schools are now teaching only one period as well. I want to go lay down in a dark room with a cold washcloth over my eyes.
Ever since J-School, I’ve cringed whenever I see two spaces after a period. That rule was thrown out the window the second I left high school.
same here, k! I can spot 2 spaces after a period from a mile away. ew.
The rule started in journalism because it saves column space. At least, that’s what I was told.
Two spaces is still acceptable in academic writing, though.
Mere would know; that is her job after all!
(For Julie and Cady: Your world is not completely crashing down around you, it turns out.)
I was always told we stopped because computer fonts automatically account for that after periods. Newsflash, computers are smarter then typewriters.
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Relation-shit.
The roommate broke down for me her recent slow demise with the ex. Or was he an ex? Was he ever her boyfriend? For seven months he took her to dinner, helped her move furniture, cooked brunch in his Upper East Side apartment. They watched Netflix together. Her friends dated his friends. Some times they double-dated with her friends and his friends. (I was never one of those friends, although I am sure he has very nice friends.) He made small talk. He paid for the cabs. He popped up in her calendar at least two nights each week. But he wasn’t her boyfriend.
If he walks like a boyfriend, and he talks like a boyfriend, he must be a boyfriend, right? Alas, for Roommate it was not so easy. For approximately half of that seven month period, she and her gentleman played a passive-aggressive game of “Who Can Care Less?” He avoided discussion, and she refused to force the issue, lest she morph into one of those snake-haired, psychotic boyfriend hunters that twenty-something New York men have learned to fear and loathe.
“Feelings” became a pejorative term.
Sometimes I would come home from wherever I had been on whatever night, sobbing about my own melodramatics, and Roommate’s fellow cheered me up with good-natured advice, and then we all laughed and exclaimed, “Feelings!” and I chuckled through my tears and thought about how easy life would be if we could pack the words “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” and “relationships” into a rocket ship and launch them on a collision course with the outer rings of Saturn. Sometimes I would tell Roommate, “[Your fellow] is so great!” and she would fake laugh, like, “If you only knew…” and then we’d sit on the sofa and watch snow fall and paint our toenails, and bitch, bitch, bitch about our love lives, and WHY WOULDN’T HE NUT UP AND CALL HER HIS GIRLFRIEND?
Finally one day in September she pulled the trigger. “Are you dating anyone else?” she asked. He said, “No.”
“Well, do you want to date anyone else?”
He looked at her like she’d grown a dorsal fin and said, “Isn’t that the same thing?”
No, son. It isn’t. And by the end of the conversation all they had determined was that a) his romantic inertia did not a boyfriend make, and b) he just didn’t give a goddamn. Roommate did not particularly want a future husband, but she did want to know if he wanted a girlfriend or wanted to be her boyfriend so that she could then take new opportunities should they fly in her direction because deep down maybe she did want a boyfriend, and the non-ex-but-really-an-ex just wanted someone to come over three nights a week and cook him pasta and pie and shut the fuck up about feelings.
Lemon was right. Seriously.
Girls, girls, girls. It ain’t just New York ladies who can relate to this.
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Rihanna's interview on Good Morning America was really hard to watch.
But very worth it. Watch it here. The rest of it airs tomorrow on 20/20.
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Maine! I know that part of the state let us down, but can someone please get this for me anyway? I still really do love Maine!
I bought this for Nebraska. And I love it. And it is constantly noticed. :)
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In other news, I have bronchitis. SUPRISE!
I go to the doctor to get a prescription refilled. I walk out with a disease.
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So let em cheer. Today we live in a world where a lot of people who love each other can’t get married. In about 20 years, these people will live in a world where those same people WILL be able to get married, and they will have to shamefully explain to their grandkids why they were on the front page of the newspaper celebrating an ignorant and hopeless cause. So who are really the winners here?
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