Jessica Blankenship

The cold quiet lull after the holidays is an unstoppable breeding ground for unfounded listlessness. There’s no judgment here. But there is a soundtrack for your mildly blue moments.

Big, fat, trolly troll or a peek in the dark world of Appalachian Twitter?

This cover by Irish musicians Glenn Murphy, Oisin O’Callaghan, and Ronan Scolard is pretty adorable, and can I just say “What’s up, middle guy?”

The concept of possessing another person, of claiming any degree of ownership over their lives or their emotions, is false. We all ultimately belong only to ourselves.

The problem with the new motivational mantra is that the notion of comparing ourselves to Beyoncé is – what’s the word? – total horse s*%t.

Did you forget your painfully accurate lambasting of the media’s portrayal of women in your documentary, The Beyoncé Story, directed by Beyoncé, starring Beyoncé?

Let me be (not even remotely) the first to say: Feria, burn in hell for convincing so many unsuspecting people that ombre hair is a thing can be successfully accomplished at home.

The usual body-shaming, unrealistic beauty ideals, and the Cult of Perpetual Superficial Betterment all come together in a New Years media fury of headlines aimed at telling you what’s wrong with your body, how to fix it, and how much happier you’ll be once you do.

“I love you so much, I could die.” My lips said sweetly, beaming upward in the direction of his damp, earnest face. My eyes were saying: Just try. I dare you. I’m ready.

We ground ourselves all the time when we need a break from our bad habits. We just hated it when our parents did it.

More of this kind of stuff forever.

My immediate impulse was “F**k no, we’re not doing this at all! Where is phone? Hello SIRI, GET ME THE NEAREST ABORSH PROVIDER!” But then a weird thing happened.