You know what sucks most about long distance relationships? The long distance. (Duh, right?) Actually, the frustration of missing someone so much it hurts is what’s really awful.
That’s where Rabb.it can help.
It’s more than just video chatting. You can watch Netflix or Hulu together on it. (Kind of like a virtual movie date.) You can also make it a group thing and have a conversation with all your friends. It’s good to have communication options, so check it out.
And for those times when there’s no distance between you: Bedsider.org
Image via Rabb.it
As most of you probably know, someone somewhere dumped a deluge of purported nude photographs of a number of female celebrities online yesterday. The victims include the likes of Kate Upton, Victoria Justice, Ariana Grande, Kirsten Dunst, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Krysten Ritter, Yvonne Strahovski, and Teresa Palmer. But the focal point for this story has been Hunger Games/American Hustle actress Jennifer Lawrence, since the Oscar winning actress is perhaps the most famous actress on the planet right now. Without going into sordid details ( Justice and Grande have claimed their respective photos are fake, others have confirmed they are real), I’d like to make two very specific points. Ms. Lawrence and the other victims have absolutely nothing to apologize for in terms of the contents of the photos or the nature in which they were leaked. The story itself should not be addressed as if it were a scandal, but rather what it is: A sex crime involving theft of personal property and the exploitation of the female body.
Outlets as mainstream as People and CNN are referring to the photo leak as a “scandal.” All due respect, it’s not a scandal. The actresses and musicians involved did nothing immoral or legally wrong by choosing to take nude pictures of themselves and put them on their personal cell phones. You may argue, without any intended malice, that it may be unwise in this day-and-age to put nude pictures of yourself on a cell phone which can be act and/or stolen. But without discounting that statement, the issue is that these women have the absolute right and privilege to put whatever they want on their cell phones with the expectation that said contents will remain private or exclusive to whomever is permitted to see them just like their male peers. The burden of moral guilt is on the people who stole said property and on those who chose to consume said stolen property for titillation and/or sexual gratification."
hey, just thought of something totally unrelated to this picture!
do you ever get that feeling where like you see a picture of, say, for example, a celebrity, who is doing JUST FINE rolling in their piles of money while winking saucily at their armoire full of accolades, and on the outside you’re like, “oh, yeah, haha, nice picture there you loser,” but on the inside you’re bones are playing a samba that goes:
I WILL DRIVE TO YOUR HOME
AND STAND SENTRY AT THE DOORWAY
WITH A LIGHTSABER AND ALL THE POWER OF MY ANCESTORS
AND NEVER LET ANYTHING BAD HAPPEN TO YOU EVER AGAIN
NOT EVER, NOT EVER EVER EVER
no? no one? that’s just me?
My roommate’s friend with her baby: Whew, I’m tired.
Me: You could sit, maybe put the baby down, maybe put the baby down over here by me, maybe I could even hold him.
Me: Oh, and also: hi, nice to meet you.
#i will steal your baby#i offer as if it’s a nice generous thing#oh you’ve been standing for so long let me take the baby#oh you haven’t had dinner yet let me take the baby#oh you should take a break LET ME TAKE THE BABY
me + my crew
samwisers, let me tell you a truth. WE ALL DO THIS. “i read online somewhere,” we say, pushing our glasses up our noses like true scholars who spend our spare time auditing lectures and volunteering at local libraries; “my friend told me,” we add, flicking our hair back because we have sooooo many friends it’s just like, hard to keep track of their names?; “this girl i know once accidentally downloaded porn and later grew up to be ambiguously an orphan who collects pens and eats cheese to drown her sorrow,” we remind our moms, “so i’m really not doing too bad.”
the moral of the story is if you want to say “my friend mollyhall,” you go right ahead. you earned it.