Words Used Ceaselessly on HGTV’s “Property Virgins” That, Divorced From Context, Have Been Arranged In Tercets To Sound As Naughty As The Show’s Title, Without Even Using “Washer/Dryer”

Entertain
Closet
Lifestyle Access
Private
Bush

Entertain
Closet
Lifestyle Access
Private
Bush

I'm asking a lot of you today, I know ("See this movie! Watch this clip! Put up with my typos and incoherent ramblings!"), but so long as I'm in a beggy mood, might I also request that you check out Shelf Discovery? It's a collection of essays about the classic young adult novels many of you read as a kid, by Awl pal Lizzie Skurnick-one of my first blogging buddies! Maybe you've seen some of the "Fine Lines" columns on Jezebel which launched the collection? The books in question will probably be more familiar to women than men, but Lizzie is a remarkably compelling writer, so guys [...]
"Gender cake parties," in which an expectant couple learns the sex of their incipient offspring through the medium of flour, sugar eggs and frosting, are suddenly in the news. Of course, it is probably not news to you if you read Awl pal Lizzie Skurnick's extensive meditation on the practice last month. What's that? You missed it? Well, it's right here! Enjoy.
Awl pal Lizzie Skurnick took issue with CBS legal correspondent Andrew Cohen's "heartfelt tribute to the love that got away on the occasion of her wedding to someone else," noting that "publishing, on her wedding day, a rundown that frames the lady's virtues almost entirely by how well she treated you falls somewhere between inconsiderate and catastrophically narcissistic." Cohen's response begins, "I won't embarrass you further (than you've already embarrassed yourself) by responding in public to your shrewish little column," and gets more cringe-worthy from there. You'll enjoy these, I promise.
Awl pal Lizzie Skurnick tells what three heroines from young adult fiction can teach us about surviving the recession. Educational!
Immediately after my mother gave birth to my brother, the legend goes, she demanded three things of my father: a crate of avocados, a six-pack of beer and an entire chocolate cake, which last she devoured entirely, bed-bound, before moving on the rest.
I believe and like this baby story, because, unlike so much of today's newborn lore, it is neither self-congratulatory nor solicitous of sympathy. (Unless one feels for the prospect of my father trying to locate a crate of avocados at 7 a.m. in the Bronx.) I also like it because it involves beer, and chocolate cake, two things that have historically gone great with baby.
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