You cannot be what you cannot see. There aren't enough female humor writers, and there aren't enough sites that highlight the ones that do exist.
Girls are funny. Women are funny. Babies can be funny-looking.
An assortment of new, old, and aggregated humor and satire essays from around the web. (And some of my own.)
If you pee your pants, I did my job, or you should call Kris Jenner.
Taking submissions & suggestions.
{Curated by Meredith Fineman}
Any baked goods that seemed especially sticky or shiny or just off in some indefinable way were actually store-bought and gluten-free, not “homemade with extra butter.” They were on sale. The “low-fat, organic” corn chips were from a soon-to-expire bag of Fritos discovered near the back of the pantry five minutes before you arrived.
The blonde woman who spent half an hour flipping through our old magazines and sending a flurry of text messages before leaving rather abruptly was not Brian’s sister, visiting from Indiana; she was our new neighbor and we ignored her. Her name is Kim. Or Jill. She didn’t answer to either name at the elevator this morning. Maybe her name is Kelly.
In “Edge of Seventeen,” Stevie Nicks sings about a “white-winged dove,” not a “one-winged dove.” This renders much of the discussion of disabled dove imagery in popular music moot, although the host stands by the assertion that “When Doves Cry” is Prince’s best song.
