Hi, I just read through all your thought catalog articles and enjoyed them very much. Am writing to request you do a female version of "what your shoes say about you" ASAP. ok thnx bye.
Thanks. People in the comments also asked for a female version, which I attempted, but realized I had little material, save some predictable and disappointing misogynist jabs, as I honestly don’t understand women. I will say that women who wear ballet flats act nice but aren’t really. For those of you who don’t know what we’re talking about, you may click here.
worst thing you've done inside your apartment?
About two years ago, near the bottom of a four year depression, I ordered about a third off the menu of a Japanese place, had it delivered (~$90) and ate it (~2,700 calories) in one sitting (~7:30 - 9:00 p.m., Saturday night). I recall eating fried pork cutlet w/ curry over rice (Tonkatsu), a dozen gyoza, 2-3 spider rolls, a “party plate” of shrimp & vegetable tempura, chicken teriyaki bento box, and two deep fried soft shell crabs. Then, still unsatisfied and too lazy to slash my wrists, I went across the street to a convenience store manned by severe Muslims and bought a bag of Cheetos puffs and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s “Cherry Garcia,” which I, now on my couch watching a Law & Order: Special Victims Unit marathon, drunkenly ingested (I forgot to mention I also “downed” 1.5 bottle(s) of wine) while cursing the Republican party, God, and my father. And yet, I woke up the next day. Existence, while empty, is oddly empathetic by its very non-judgemental vacancy. I am better now, thank you.
What comes to your mind when you hear the words "Tufts University"
To preserve the authenticity of my response, I will not refer to wikipedia. I don’t know where Tufts University is. I casually group it with Norte Dam, Rutgers, Vanderbilt, Brown, and other universities whose cities in which they reside are not named. I imagine a staunch patriarchal dog being the mascot, with flabby low-hanging testicular jowls. I imagine endowed chairs with erectile dysfunction, janitors with schizophrenia, and librarians with eczema. I imagine old 18th century buildings named “Newton Hall” with shoddy wi-fi as the apparition of new technology rising as e-rapture into the low clouds, as before a storm, our fraternities and sororities emitting base hormones across unkempt knolls, endocrine heteronormative vectors of thoughtless privilege, texting re: post-curfew booty calls, some benzos skye and redbull, and the ultimate biblical parting of ass into a condom handed out for free at the student health center, whose devastated receptionist, a morbidly obese spinster, could only dream of using, of being used in such loving way — and the Indian math geek cooking up a storm in the dormitory kitchen, whose multi-cultural redolence could be smelt a month later, deep in the carpet, where creampie’d spunk crackles into the crust of fallen joy.