Thank you for reading our general rules for appropriate attire for this year’s Grammys. The following items are addressed to particular individuals, but should you feel a flicker of recognition as you're reading, by all means pay attention to it even if you don't see your name here. READ MORE

2012 was the worst year ever for infidelity in America. I know that because I am American, and in 2012, my boyfriend cheated on me. Not only that, my boyfriend cheated on me and I had to recover from it in complete anonymity. Robert Pattinson, cheated on by Kristen Stewart, was invited to unpack this experience on "The Jon Stewart Show." I was not. Someone shot a video of Scott Broadwell in his darkest hour, after his wife Paula's affair with General David Petraeus was revealed, walking with somber solidity to his brother-in-law’s house, while Paula gripped his arm with an assuring sense of ownership. No such video exists of me. Finally, while Holly Petraeus was held up as “a great example for military wives,” I was held up as nothing. And yet something—a sense of shared experience, vanity, delusion—makes it impossible to avoid comparing my own situation to these more public betrayals. Here’s my story against the backdrop of 2012's cuckolded A-listers. READ MORE

A series on the stuff that delighted us on the Internet this year. READ MORE

Christeene is an Austin-based singer and performer. There is an impulse to say that she is a drag character, but Paul Soileau, the actual Social Security number-having man "behind" Christeene doesn't really like the word 'drag' that much in this case, and neither do I, except as a way of understanding on a basic level that yes, this is a man dressed up as a person in high heels and makeup with a woman's name. Anyway. Christeene is the best. She and her backup dancers T-Gravel and C-Baby perform tonight at Glasslands in Williamsburg. Below is an email chat with Christeene. READ MORE

Angelina Jolie was so amazed. It was only once in a while that she saw something that really made her feel real. It was so hard to feel real sometimes. Pancakes sometimes made her feel real. But pancakes were troublesome. A slippery slope. She wrote that down in her blue Moleskine book. "Pancakes are a slippery slope." READ MORE

Nevada is a swing state; California is blue. During the presidential elections it's a regular thing for Californians to go to Nevada to campaign on behalf of their chosen candidate. I spent six hours on Saturday knocking on doors in a subdivision in South Reno assessing people's support for President Barack Obama, and, where appropriate, attempting to convince them to vote for him. Below is a log of my experience. I knocked on about forty doors but only talked to about 18 people. In the spaces of time between log entries, I was just covering ground and leaving literature for people who were not home. READ MORE

I have always thought of the word 'literally' as someone else's problem. Then, suddenly, it arrived: My summer of Literally. A recent family vacation revealed my brother as one of the worst offenders. He likes to couple ‘literally’ with the phrase… 'on the planet,' as in, “You are literally the best sister on the planet.” (Or rather, you were.) Other literally fans (is it the heat?): my lesbian best friend, my rich best friend, my yoga best friend—she’s the one it seems rudest to complain about since last weekend we went to Wanderlust together, and I spent half the time in a sobbing rage and the other half crawling around on a motel floor looking for an earring. But one of us used the word 'literally' approximately 18 times over the course of three days, and it was not I. READ MORE

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I do a lot of pretty random stupid shit thinking that I will write about it. Most of my activities turn out to be useless, though there’s always the idea that I could hit upon something so I live in this constant state of expectation that’s not as exciting as it sounds and is actually mildly depressing. This is because the pretense of adventure, day in and day out, when hardly anything actually ever happens eventually wears on you, especially when you are not rich. As much as one tries to tell oneself that things are being accomplished, such encouragement is no match for the more persistent mantra which goes something like this: Hey, you’re an idiot. Get a job. Oh. Wait. You are unemployable. Okay. Well. You’re just an idiot. READ MORE

That New York Times Magazine's article on the dangers of yoga has made a lot of people mad. It didn’t really make me mad—I do too much yoga to get mad, though I do still sniff disdainfully—but I did want to address why many of the arguments in it are totally lame. READ MORE