Being the funny one sounds glamorous until you realize you’re basically the emotional janitor of every room. Anita finally admits that behind the punchlines is a tired human holding it…
An unhinged meditation on ice crunching, sensory rage, and why that tiny, echoing sound turns me feral. A plea for silence, manners, and my last remaining nerve.
A bitchy love letter to evolution: ditching the tired word “gay,” reclaiming Two-Spirit power, dragging anti-intellectual “anti-woke” nonsense, and reminding us we were born this way. The backlash is temporary.…