I recently travelled from Toronto to L.A. to Baja, taking advantage of some confusing travel bans. It eventually caught up to me.
Because I can control nothing else.
I remember hearing sounds of grown men crying, shrieking, and screaming.
Mix CDs have been innovated out of existence—but nothing has managed to replace how meaningful it was to make and receive them.
The show's portrayal of an anxious Australian protagonist in a world of perverse caricature and logo hysteria is, uh, me.
I'm not “getting in people’s way,” because I have a right to be here, too.
"For years, I didn’t use chopsticks, refused to speak Chinese, tried to wear shoes in my home, never brought leftovers to school, and even claimed to dislike boba."
Quad Cities-style pizza rises to the level of legendarily terrible—like 'The Room' or the 'Troll 2' of bad pizza.
It's the only place where we can feel like we belong to a community—but without the pressure of revealing everything about ourselves.