Stephanie Georgopulos

“Of course I didn’t notice that you resemble the Elephant Man in my profile picture; I was distracted by how thin I look.”

During winter break, you will find a hometown boyfriend who is too old and too nice to be taken seriously. He will ride a motorcycle and live with his parents and be everything you never wanted.

I saw Andy and his girlfriend again — they’ve probably been together for two or three years, at this point — they were crossing the street with huge backpacks on, the kind you travel with. I wondered if they were coming or going, and where, but didn’t ask or even say hi. I just mostly felt an empty hole where the jealous part of me should have been.

He remained on the sidewalk, pacing back and forth. “They’re closed,” I’d report. “They can’t send someone for another two hours.” I’d called four or five locksmiths when one finally bit. “SOMEONE’S COMING!” I announced.

I’m exhausted by the act of waking up and knowing exactly what to expect and from whom; I’m tired of water with lemon and lemonade and Arnold Palmers, can’t we invent something new?

Here’s a pretty fierce supercut of President Obama’s “99 Problems” remix, with special guest appearances from Mitt Romney.

I LIVED for The Twilight Zone, even though it made me fear everything — ventriloquist dummies, diners, fortune cookies, books, making wishes, dolls, siblings, wearing glasses, time itself, cars…

If you care about someone, which is ostensibly the reason you’d want to hang out with them, wouldn’t you try to respect that sometimes they need to do what feels right for them, rather than what’s right for you?

Does the shirt cover four inches of crotch/thigh area, AT LEAST? Are the leggings somehow embellished to make them more “pant-like”?

In the 70s, beauty queen Joyce was accused of following her Mormon ex-lover to England, where she allegedly kidnapped him, chained him up in a cabin, and raped him.

I was floating through space, I was in a world I’d never seen before, I was wrapped up in a blanket on the floor of a strange bedroom.

Christ on a cracker I’m hungov– wait, that actually sounds delicious.

This insane monster is perfectly likable during business hours, but give him a few shots of tequila and he starts acting like someone slipped PCP in his Patron.

His page is flooded with inspirational quotes, uploaded in .jpeg format. I don’t feel inspired.

A cigarette used to be an invitation to strangers: come over this way, inhale with me. Now, instead, my digits dig deep in my purse for a slick black cell phone and they type meaningless messages to yet more strangers in many other rooms, jokes and quips in 140 characters or less until it’s time to go home.

Let me drop a little truth bomb on you. I’ve already lived through approximately 1,350 weekends.

I know you must get that a lot, and on good days you probably let it slide. You think, “We’re happy and that’s all that matters,” you think, “Some people are just ignorant, but that’s not our problem.”

This uh… short story is a prime example of what happens when you replace every word in the sentence with Word’s suggested synonyms.