Today, we’re going to learn a sultry but tricky look: the cat eye.
At a recent party, an acquaintance of mine had the temerity to serve room-temperature brie in a covered dish. Can you imagine my horror?
I feel like .00008% of the time, I actually believe my coupled friends are jealous that I’m single.
In the building where I work, there is a refrigerated vending machine that houses sandwiches, small bottles of milk, and—most importantly for you, dear reader—muffins.
Listen, mes amis, if you want to throw around the word slut to cast aspersions on someone who isn’t, you know, a virgin martyr like me, could you at least learn the history of the[…]