Est-ce qu’on peut ne pas parler de mes organes génitaux quand je mange ?
Waking up is haaaaaaaard.
Is it hinting at a new Halo game, or a new Battlestar Galactica series, or something else entirely? Fans are trying to unravel the cryptic video countdown before time runs out.
Today in killing two birds with one stone(r).
Exploring the mysteries of the universe…through nightblogging. Epiphanies via Tumblr Gets Deep.
They’re creepy and they’re kooky and they’re in a pretty solid and mutually respectful relationship, actually.
Bear witness to eternal regret.
A handful of news outlets have stopped publishing the racially-charged Redskins team name.
Can we talk about my genitals sometime when I’m not eating? Or never?
For when you have that extra elective to fill.
Legally, in some countries.
Sage advice from the Pope of Trash.
Besides Facebook telling you your literal birthday.
Lights, camera, midterms.
Clearly it’s a sign.
Sculptor Theo Mercier’s “LE SOLITAIRE” is the saddest pasta ever.
A new biography about the existentialist author explores Kafka’s desire to smooch other guys. More like MANZ Kafka, amirite?
One part gorgeous, two parts creepy.
These dogs are pros at being bros.