I leave the whole thing set up in the guest room so I don't have to mess with it, and I'm a woman, so most of my dressier tops are less complicated than a men's button-down. I plug it in, wash my face, and it's ready to go, and it really is only about 2 minutes to actually iron. Maybe twice that if it's a particularly finicky fabric (which I'm slowly eliminating from my wardrobe).

Man, I iron all the time. I'm not like, ironing underwear like a crazy person, but I have a lot of shirts that would be straight up unacceptable to wear to work without it. It takes like 2 minutes.

It's definitely way less work. If you get hired for an hour, you're pretty much expected to be fully engaged in, if not sex, then at least being entertaining in some way. With the type of sex work she did, she was never getting paid for time spent sleeping or eating (and definitely not hanging out and shopping), unless that was someone's kink, I guess. I had a series of sugar daddies in my early 20s, and don't let anyone tell you that's not sex work, and I definitely made less per hour than a more traditional prostitute, but I also put in a lot less energy. Plus, it came with a lot more perks.

I haven't had any issue finding those amenities in hotels in Europe (at least in Berlin, Munich, Madrid, and Málaga, which is not an exhaustive study by any means). I've seen a few that look to be entire small apartment buildings converted into hotels, which isn't great for the local housing market, but all the ones I've stayed at were clearly built for that purpose. So that's the good news, I guess.

Somewhere, Brennan Lee Mulligan is crying and he doesn't know why.

Many years ago, I worked in a call center. I was sitting with someone who was new helping them take calls and both of our headsets were plugged into the phone. The trainee was helping a store employee and she was just being awful to him. While she went to get something from the customer, I muted the line and said, "God, what a bitch!" except my finger was hovering over the button and I hit it just in time for her to hear me say bitch. I fully panicked and hung up on her. Nobody ever said anything to either of us and this was back when landlines would occasionally cross, so hopefully she thought that's what happened since she hadn't heard my voice up until then.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure that's the origin of why I still don't trust mute or hold to this day. I'm not talking shit until I know that call is disconnected.

Oh I'm the opposite - I'm not a very good cook because I don't enjoy doing it. I'm pretty good with flavors because I'm not afraid of seasonings, but my knife skills are bordering on Worst Cook in America levels. The abuse I have wrought upon poor, innocent, delicious onions is a crime.

Also, if you like the fried onions, have you seen the jalapeno version? So good. I've started putting them on everything.

I'm the worst about this. My mom and I will try a new restaurant and I'll be talking about "oh this needs acid, that's the perfect amount of heat, blah blah." Meanwhile, I'm over here "cooking" noodles with a pile of kimchi every other day because that's all I ever have in the fridge.

Coffee, hash browns, eggs. Then I spend my remaining money on hot sauce or green chile.

Hardness of the Sexbots?

I woke up at 6 to get a head start on desecration, but then I had a bbq to attend later so I got way off schedule. I really need to be on the ball today if I want to destroy the sanctity of straight marriage and groom children by telling them that they're valid and deserving of love no matter how they identify. It's a lot of work for a Sunday, honestly.

Ugh Joffree is clearly some kind of hellspawn.