NEWSLETTER



DOS & DON'TS

What the fuck are you glowering about? If that sexball let me put my freckly hands all over her person I'd be doing dances with her that make Skeritt Boy look like a tree-sloth who hates sex, not getting into staring problems with every other guy in the room. I guess heavy hangs the face that wears the tits. Comments/Enlarge | See all


Grad school types and religious assholes want to convince us that assimilation is mean and racist and makes immigrants betray their cultural roots, but what if they're just really psyched to live somewhere that isn't an abject shithole? Comments/Enlarge | See all






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ARTICLES BY BLAISE KEARSLEY


EDGE OF SEVENTEEN

You and Katherine are drunk on wine coolers and you've forgotten all about stabbing Ziggy with the Ginsu knife and running for your lives. The three of you cozy down in the dark, Ziggy in the middle, beneath several layers of blankets and unzipped sleeping bags, and you listen to the sounds of the leaves rustling in the trees outside. Then Ziggy turns and puts your face in his hands and kisses you. ...