Too much suit.
My lack of enthusiastic updates may have already given it away, but I thought I’d make it official.
For all his promise, Vest didn’t make it past the first date. Suffice it to say, his texts should have been a warning that he’s a little too far evolved from his troglodyte ancestors to be exciting.
We may have only set the clocks back an hour, but my body knows, dammit.
- I woke up quite naturally this morning… AT FIVE THE FUCK O’CLOCK. Why? Because six would be about two snoozes into a normal week-day morning.
- Breakfast was consumed at my normal (clock) time. Lots of coffee because I was an idiot and tried to go back to sleep after my body was like GOOD MORNING, PENNY! LET’S GET UP NOW!!
- By 10 I was ready for a snack. Except it wasn’t 10, it was only 9 am clock time.
- An hour later my snack attack has turned into full-blown hungry stomach rage.
In other words, I am feeling a little 11 o’clockish – there’s a rumbly in my tumbly! – and it’s only 10 o’clock.
Neither do we. (Ok, we do. We so totally do.)
Luckily we don’t need a discontinued Sunday supplement in a dying print medium to tell us that nothing will be new on TV this Tuesday.
Except maybe the President…
(Which one do you think we’re more upset about?)
Nonsensical as an adjective may have gone out of style with the empire-waisted gowns of Austen heroines, but I vote we bring it back and apply its offensively missish connotations to the Illinois appeals court.
Because nonsensical is precisely the correct descriptive adjective for a ruling that gives pharmacists the right to decide – on a whim – whether or not it is morally acceptable for a specific customer to purchase emergency contraceptive.
That’s right, folks. In Illinois your pharmacist has the final say. (Or, double ugh, your pharmacist’s corporate head which, as we all know, is now a person.)
Translation: You look like you’re doing the walk of shame; I judge you; I will teach you a lesson in consequences for your actions.
Patriarchy, why you gotta be a dick?