Chelsea Fagan

All five of the original Girls are together again for the launch of their new musical Viva Forever, premiering on London’s West End this December.

If you work in an open space, and many of us have, you will quickly find that having your back to the entire rest of your department is amongst the most cruel fates that can be endured.

Ayn Rand looked on fondly as the mighty hockey stick of capitalism bore down on the Soviet players, crushing their fur hat hopes and beet soup dreams as they cried tears of pure vodka. It was there that Ronald Reagan was born.

And after his years of good breeding and working on becoming The Sexual Icon of British Charm (ripping the title mercilessly from Hugh Grant’s cold, gnarled fingers), he was rewarded by a Hollywood that was ready to have someone with legitimate acting chops play a blockbuster role or two.

It’s an undeniable trope in modern humor to have the woman be a perfectly normal, capable member of society — right up until she’s PMSing, at which point she becomes a many-headed hydra, only there to scream and complain, occasionally stopping to eat an entire pan of brownies and cry.

Keep in mind that for every minute of actual fun you have on Sunday evening/night, you shall pay threefold on Monday morning.

As if your day wasn’t already sweet enough by virtue of being right before a weekend, get ready to get internet diabetes with this gem of a performance.

Man, it’s Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday, AKA the only day of the week fully sandwiched by pure happiness — there is no reason to be productive today.

Clearly you are in no shortage of cotton candy-colored hair and clothing, all of which looks beyond awesome. (And you need to slap Katy Perry across her musically mediocre face for stealing your fluorescent-pastel Candyland Goes To The Club style — only you can truly own it.)

Wonder often if everyone feels this way, if there is an internal struggle with who we are and how others think of us existing in every sharply-dressed stranger in the subway.

But beyond just making the waiter’s life miserable for the hour or so spent in the restaurant, this person clearly holds service jobs in general in extremely low esteem — something that should essentially be punishable by death at this point.

Apparently there are only a limited number of years in our twenties in which to lock someone in, and after that, we are doomed to a life of scraping the bottom of the barrel and being cripplingly jealous of our friends and sisters who were smarter than us and settled down.

We might yell a heavily-accented “DOMO ARIGATO HAHAHAHAHA” at a man in the subway in Tokyo, but of course, they would know we were not being serious and therefore not judge us on our deaf ear for language.

You’ve had to pull over several times because you could no longer see, and even in your state, you realize that driving while sobbing uncontrollably is a safety hazard.

As we all know, like many indisputable laws of nature that we all must adhere to, you are destined to run into exes, gorgeous neighbors, frenemies, and all of the other Most Important People when you look like Quasimodo spending his one day of freedom out amongst the normals.

Channing Tatum has been playing the hot high school jock/be-wifebeatered dancer for like ten years now — homeboy is 32 and still looks gorgeous hitting on some girl outside of chemistry class. The man is beautiful in such a delectably bro-y way, who is better for this film?

Now is the time of year to get so drunk by six in the evening that you sort of wonder whether you should take a disco nap and then eat dinner at 10 like a Spaniard, or just call it a day and pass out in a lawn chair with a hat on your face.

I didn’t realize how much I loved Lane until he was gone. I think that his character was just so profoundly convincing as that “Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here” gentleman who always puts others first, that we managed to do the same with him as an audience.