My boyfriend has suddenly jumped on the pronoun bandwagon and insists I refer to him as "they" and I refuse. I'm gay, I'm with a guy, I'm not with a plural. Something so strange like a pronoun is destroying my relationship.
The television flickered, casting a familiar, soft glow across the room. Against my better judgment, I found myself — yet again — marooned in the captivating, often bewildering, world of The Bachelor.
A few years ago, after countless disappointing attempts with makeshift methods and a growing craving for gourmet gelato, I decided it was time to invest in a dedicated ice cream maker. After much research and reading countless reviews, I settled on a popular and highly rated model: the Cuisinart ICE-21 Frozen Yogurt-Ice Cream & Sorbet Maker.
I don't normally give these a title but here it is: Drew and the Case of the Crocodilian Calamity
Oh, to be a dog. I wake up most mornings, wrestle with the existential dread of my alarm clock, glance at the piling bills on the counter, and then cast an envious eye at my furry housemates -- the boss' dogs -- who are belly-up, snoring like contented chainsaws. And that’s when the thought hits me, almost daily: pets, particularly dogs, have it ridiculously easy.
It's officially ice cream season. But, let's be honest, every season should be ice cream season. Partner it with cake and... mmmm, I'm getting hungry!
When we go to a restaurant my partner insists on sitting beside me but I prefer sitting across the table. It's weird to me because it's so close together. It's led to fights and him wondering why I don't want to be close to him. He thinks I'm embarrassed by him.
CRUISIN' WITH DIANA
There are few things in this grand, baffling theatre of life that bring me quite as much unadulterated, slightly cynical joy as scrolling through my social media feed and encountering the latest wave of hyper-inspirational, motivation-on-steroids posts.
I'm back on the tipping thing. It's a debate that isn't going away any time soon!
Minding his own business, Tanner was having lunch while working on his travel content in Nashville. Sitting in the corner of a sandwich shop, Tan was hammering away on his laptop before heading to his next excursion. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a woman in her 60s approach his table. He looked over.
I'll admit it: I'm a fudge packer. Proud fudge packer here. As an expert, I've come up with a delicious rainbow-tastic fudge for Pride celebrations this year.
I think I made a sex video after a drunk Pride party, but now I'm not sure. I have flashes of memory, a knot of anxiety in my stomach and I'm terrified. I don't know if a video exists, who might have it, or what to do next.
Is it just me, or does customer service take forever now? I find myself asking this question almost every time I need to interact with a company, and the answer, sadly, is almost always a resounding "no, it's not just me."
As someone who’s always been fascinated by the intersection of fashion and technology, the idea of smart glasses has captivated me for years. (Mostly I wondered if they're necessary or just something to entertain the nerd world.)
I was told that my partner was seen kissing someone at a Pride party. I wasn't there, there's no photo proof but I'm concerned. I trust him but I wonder if something happened. What should I do?
After the Pride parade a few thousand people -- 3,000, according to organizers -- gathered to watch performances, enjoy food and drinks and dance the night away.
It made international headlines — for good and bad reasons — when a New Jersey restaurant banned children under 10 years of age. You already know the two sides of the story without hearing it: Yesssssss! and That’s so unfair.
This commentary is controversial. I already hear some people calling me hateful and homophobic. My response: bitch, please.
Not that we're vain and caught up on looks (shut up) here at Buff Boy, but we do enjoy an embarrassing story when it makes a teammate look bad -- physically look bad.
For years, I’d heard the buzz about air fryers, but I was skeptical. Could a countertop appliance really deliver that satisfying crunch without all the oil and fuss of deep-frying? I envisioned yet another gadget gathering dust on the counter.
My partner wants to go to every Pride event. I have no interest. It's turned into a fight that I'm not supporting him and he wants me to go. Pride is not my scene and I don't care to spend my time there. What should I do?
It's time to get fruity for Pride! Or fruitier. You ready?
With the cost of everything going up, it’s had many people figuring out how to save a little more -- or a lot more, let's be honest.
