In a world where everything sucks and is bad, I decided to go review some restaurants, because why not, we’re all going to die anyway, right?

sweet tart imo

Putting on my stomping boots I stomped downtown and found myself in the hottest food district around, with eateries either side of the road stretching as far as the eye can see, which isn’t far – about four places – since I lost my contact lenses in the divorce. That’s just petty, Carol. Anyway, I went to each of them sequentially, purging in intermission to ensure my stomach was as ready to receive my next meal as it was for the last.

 

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Camping sucks. Why does anyone do it! Every year, we are all asked to go camping as though our personalities have changed to loving the outdoors suddenly. And no matter how much you are sure you hate camping and don’t want to do it, eventually you break down and say okay, in case THIS time it will be fun for the first time ever.

And it is fun — in theory. However, when you get there it is full of bugs and people want you to do things with them and also there’s no shower. The rest is fun though! The sleeping and eating and some of the seeing your friends is fun. Maybe hiking is part of camping, and that’s fun, but really hiking is its own thing, so whatever. Anyway here’s the foolproof Sneer guide to trying your best not to want to die while being forced to camp.

 

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Any time a new animal friend enters my life, I find myself considering what name would suit it. I don’t mean that I take fifteen minutes before settling on the forever-name. I mean I draw up charts and make lists and say each word hundreds of times. I consult numerology and tea leaves and the phases of the moon. I read baby name books and dictionaries and look at the shapes of clouds hoping that one will inspire me suitably.

Perhaps many of you think I am going overboard when it comes to this sort of thing, but I used to stress over naming my Sims, too, so this is how seriously I take names! A pet will live out its entire lifespan (which it will obviously be spending entirely with you, responsible pet owner), so the name is crucial. You will be saying this word repeatedly, and eventually, engraving it on a little stone monument to mark its place in a pet cemetery. It’s the most important thing to this animal, after food, water, shelter, and pettings.

gimme name

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We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

no

In this instance, I once again firmly believe that I am experiencing a rational fear, and always have behaved this way. Is it so improbable that while cooking, a little burst of oil would alter the course of my life? Maybe a face wouldn’t melt into an unmanageable tangle of scar tissue, but imagine what that would do to an eye. I have felt it on my arm! It hurts!

If I have to fry an egg or goetta or something, I am nothing but a mess of flinching and I actually stand several feet away until I have to draw near again. I just can’t get over my certainty that the moment I let my guard down or am caught by surprise because somehow water got into the pan, the oil will go straight for my face. Asking me to fry up a food is met with the same sort of reluctance as if you had asked me to volunteer to risk getting repeatedly snapped by mouse traps. If I offer to fry food for you for any reason, it means I like you enough to be brave, even though this comic shows that I am a big ol’ coward.

 

boo hoo

I have known Billy Holiday for a very, very long time. I thought that I knew everything there was to know about him but then he dropped this outrageous bombshell on me. And then I offended him. Then there was a spat. It is a classic cycle and is either strengthening or eroding our friendship little by little over these long years.

Now, I am no chicken-cooking expert. This is partly because I am not a great cook, but it is also because I don’t enjoy cooking meats. I always fear that they are underdone and poisoning me or giving me parasites. However, I can tell you that I can’t recall ever having cooked a chicken that came out dry. Maybe my standards are low when it comes to the golden bird, or maybe Billy Holiday needs to take some lessons.

I don’t think you’ll even need to click on it to read it. But if you need to see the detail, if you want to zoom in and see where I changed my hair to better reflect the year 2017, you sure can do it!

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On April 5, 1908, little Ruth E. Davis was born in Massachusetts. Always strong-willed and determined, she eventually became a great actress in many classic films and even on stage. She is iconic, an inspiration. Her self-esteem is its own legend and her willingness to be forthright and not at all shy about voicing unpopular opinions must have been very liberating. She’s our chosen face of Sneer Campaign, and we reference her in our daily lives as much as we can.

This brings us to this day, one of the most important religious holidays for us. Although celebrated around the world, the suggested activities are somewhat new and traditions are still being formed for St. Bette Day. However, there are some things that are always appropriate. You can do one of these, or do them all in a whirlwind that other people will have to remember for you because you’ll be having too much fun. You’ll have to just remember April 6th, the Day of the Strangely Satisfying Hangover. No regrets!

happy betteday

 

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We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

swallow it

I eat almost every day, so I should be an old pro at it. However, more than a few times, I just forget how to chew or swallow. Or I think I do? This is one of those things where it has happened enough that I worry about it a little too much, and fear that one day I will just choke because I suddenly am incapable of doing this very basic part of daily life. I have wondered if it is an actual medical problem, but I think if it were, then it would happen more consistently and not during a few seconds every once in a while. Sometimes, food just goes right down my neck while I am beginning to chew, and I sputter and fear death. Other times, I just can’t swallow, and then begin to panic because I can’t remember if it is something I should do automatically or if it is something we have to make ourselves do. Classic overthinking to make everything worse. Once, I even had a real panic attack thanks to a PBJ.

I can’t wait for food to just be a nutrition slurry, IV soup, or maybe a little tiny pill. That would relieve me of this burden.

 

In today’s vernacular, sometimes Feminism can be a dirty word. To others, it’s a thing of hope — the ideology and expectations of a future generation on its shoulders. But even amongst those followers there are divisions — schisms in a movement so massive it can’t help but crack under the heavy weight of its inertia. But for the survival of this phenomenon to be ensured,  one thing must stay true: Feminism must be intersectional. Also, I’d really like it if they brought back those 3D Doritos.

faminism

 

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When you’re buying a wine, it’s probably easy enough to get a sort of general recommendation for which wine might go well with a certain kind of dinner. That is… if you’re eating something relatively normal for dinner, or something wine is commonly thought to go with.

But some of us don’t just eat pasta Bolognese and mushroom risotto, wine sites! Some of us eat the glorious American tradition that is fast food, and some of us want a complementary wine to drink while we eat that fast food.

I am not going to mention specific wines, because it’s unlikely that readers could find them across the United States, and even less likely they’d find them around the world. But I will describe the perfect kinds of wines for these foods, based on my 100% expert opinion as someone who hardly drinks wine, but never does not eat fast food.

Drink by Amanda Wood

 

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