Broken Girl Media | Bedtime Stories for Broken Girls

I’m excited [about my award]. I like to call it ‘Vagina of the Year’ though. I don’t know why it cracks me up, I just think it’s funny to reduce myself down to a vagina sometimes.

Iggy Azalea, saying something interesting for the first time, ever.

Leonard Cohen (1934-2016)

This is getting rough, especially since he just published new material.

Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s amazing that some of the greats are able to drop albums right before they die… the perfect gift to a world that loved them.

But from now on, it’s going to start making me nervous. Like, “Oh, Beloved Old Artist is putting together a new record? And when will the funeral be held?”

RIP Leonard Cohen. You were part of the soundtrack of my early twenties, and you only got better with age. Yours and mine.

I love u daddy but if u ever talk badly about Evan Peters again I will come to ur house and fight u 🌸

(Someone’s been deep-diving the blog.)

I’ll try to be kinder to Evan. Note that I haven’t said a word about his… expertly layered and subtle performance in AHS: Hotel. Nor about his… understandable and wholly relatable inability to manage the violent outbursts of a five foot tall toothpick with a dye job. As far as I can tell, he is a very nice little man.

So now you don’t have to fight me, which is for the best. Because I will kick a girl right in the lady-junk.

What sorts of novels do you read? Are there any favourite authors or a specific genre or time period you really enjoy?

I am slightly embarrassed by my reading list; there’s not a ton of literary value in the books I’ve consumed throughout my life.

Just to give you an idea of how bad it can get, the lowlights include all ten of Hubbard’s Mission Earth books, and as a teenager, swear to God, I paid to read slightly reworded versions of the same fucking David Eddings book ten fucking times. In hardback.

Mostly, though, I lean toward middle-brow, funny, British fantasists like Gaiman, Pratchett, and Douglas Adams. The only thing I’m reading at the moment is Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, partly because of a general interest in philosophy and religious history, but mainly because I have a completely unreasonable love for the dumbed down 1986 Sean Connery/Christian Slater film adaptation.

You’re still alive?

Relationship goals.

And yes, Phillip makes the list twice because both he and his women are awesome.

An upcoming page…

“Come and see.”

My favorite thing about Ramsay’s little love-letter to Jon and Sansa is how it reads like one of the threatening messages that ancient Assyrian and Babylonian kings routinely sent their rivals. It continually amazes me that there was a time when a grandiloquent recitation of one’s intent to murder, rape, and destroy was considered diplomacy.

Trump has lots of room to grow, I guess is what I’m saying here.