Top 3 Spam Emails I've Ever Gotten

All That She Wants (1993) is just a coward's Maneater (1982).

In honor of the ratio we celebrate today, let me tell you about the day I first learnt of its existence. It was the 90's. I was attending a religious elementary school in West Covina at the time. Yes, it's a real city. Rachel Bloom didn't make it up for Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.

At this very real school in a very real place, I had been absent the day before. I don't know if I had been sick or if it was a family thing, but whatever it was, I had missed a lesson. So when my math teacher kept referring to a term I'd never heard before, I figured I would look it up later, no big deal. There was a glossary in the back of the book that was usually very helpful.

It wasn't helpful that day, though. I spent way too long trying out different spellings for the term my teacher had been using. It couldn't have been more than 10 pages of terms and definitions, and I was an advanced reader, yet I couldn't hunt the term down. I eventually gave up.

The math teacher was warm, lovely woman with a very heavy Jordanian accent. If you know anything about Arabic accents, well, then you'll understand what had happened.

And that's why I can truthfully say that I unsuccessfully tried to look up the word "bi" in a math book while I was a pupil at an Islamic institution called Straight Way School.

π Happy Pi Day, everyone π

love how so many cultures looked at cabbage and thought like "Let's put this in a well-seasoned, mildly acidic solution along with some other veggies, like carrots and onions, then let some friendly bacteria have its way"

curtido, kimchee, sauerkraut, band gobhi achar -- all s-tier sour crunchy sides

I never understood why the Hindi word for brother-in-law, "saalaa", doubles as a casual, not quite swearing insult. I thought maybe it was because there's codified hatred for in-laws in many cultures.

I just figured out a much more plausible theory. The Hindi swear word equivalent for "mother****er" is "bhenchod". Sister-****er.

ಠ_ಠ

(If you know better, please correct me!)

The first nightmare I've had in a while was about being forced to use fabric softener.

If you assume that I

✅ am a millennial,

✅ am autistic,

✅ am fat, trans, broke, but also vain, and

✅ hear "hello, my name is Renae, and I'm an appliance repair tech" often enough to know it by heart,

you'd be right.

See also: "My pronouns are she, but not her…. I’ll never be her…"

tfw when I see a post in a group on Zuck's Overgrown Hot-or-Not™ that's comment-locked, and it takes me exactly one (1) second of glancing at the headline to understand wtf happened

There's a Hole in the Bucket is more than just a fun little folk song. It's a warning about weaponized incompetence. In this essay I will

Untitled [written ~20 years ago, revised a few times]

So cold, it's so cold just because you were so bold as to take and squeeze the universe (whose vast distances our minds traverse in our short bursts of ample time) and with such brashness of rhyme to roll it between your cross-scarred fingers (with a gaze that I always hope will linger... ah, the clarity of that blue-dappled eye!) and narrow the uncertainty that I deny.

The terse moments are not so fleet so as to drive away what they imply Say the caustic words and repeat: Just a blip on the radar to me My own words, as I recall? But that was not it, not truly it, at all.

Here I give my translation: I've lost more than my faith in revelation for you've turned all that's in my head  but I find it much too hard to concede what I think, what I feel — what I need? I cannot pour frankness into your ear when all but clarity can be found here. It was once a truth and then once more a lie All that I no longer can bear to deny

The wellings-up grow ever more strong It's stupid and it's pointless and it's wrong But that sleight of word that does certainty decry... what that evokes — I can never deny

Here I give my revelation: While you could be but my mind's creation you feel like a cruel trick of fate. Our shared time stretches under its own weight. Silent only as we contemplate parting for the night Shirking others for each other — how delightfully trite And then you compelled me to ungrip my hand and unclasp my fingers to meet your demand palm to palm pressed, holy pilgrims — and then you told of admiration grown from how I'd grown more bold.

I might be God, and so might you be but divine signs and patterns are all I see pointing to you in a clear line but just as clearly, I know you are not mine. And so I leave it, and within an hour or two fuel my gasps for another with my thoughts of you. When I speak of it with you, my mouth twisted and wry You take the bait and begin to decry

You say that I want to be swept off my feet that I want a true mind to with mine meet I drag out my "no", let it hang in front of you as though through stretching alone I could make it true It fills my mouth to muffle what I want to cry: You — you are the love I must deny.

[for S., with equal sheepish apologies to T.S. Eliot and Surah Ar-Rahman]