I know that girl. Well, kind of. She doesn’t know me, but I know her. I know her first and last name and I’ve seen so many of her photos on Facebook and we have so many mutual friends that I practically am friends with her in real life anyways. She just doesn’t know it. Or does she? Oh, Facebook. You’re turning me into such a creepy p
Meet X. X is a monkey. He is addicted to drugs and his skull has been battered in and crudely stitched up. His arms and legs show signs of self-mutilation, and clumps of hair are missing — all self-mutilation derived from the trauma of being confined, deprived, tormented and treated like disposable laboratory equipment.
Swimsuit season is here! You’re at the beach, casually doing some people-watching and then, suddenly, you do a double take – are 8-year-old girls going through puberty already? Nope, they’re just wearing padded bikini tops.
“Hi! Have you met Ted?”
A simple introductory greeting is all it takes to trigger the vicious cycle of “friend-poaching,” or stealing friends away from others. Before you know it, Ted will soon be scooped up by Alex, to whom you had just introduced Ted to, and before you can say, “Let’s grab a drink!” Ted and Alex will be bonding like there’s no tomorrow and you’ll be shoved to the side like an unwanted soggy sandwich.
