Remember that party I went to a few months ago, and the lady who was carried out by her dad before apparently puking on her shoes? And how I had to spend 45 seconds of my life reassuring her that voluntarily writing "me love you long time" on a post-it wasn't racist?
She's now writing for the Huffington Post. About Rwanda.
It reads mostly like an STA blog or Flickr captions and it doesn't appear to have been copy-edited (at 9:47 GMT, perhaps this will change).
Oh and I can't even finish that thought because I just tripped over this gem:
"Martin told us war stories (I proceeded to have the most dramatic and violent dreams!) and he played us a song by Baz Luhrman around the table which I haven't heard for years and is packed with invaluable advice...it's called "Sunscreen"... look it up and listen!"
Ok.That's it. I was searching for the recent article about "winning the battle against hunger" written by Drew Barrymore to bring my whole point here home when I found that they'd reposted her Bazaar story titled "Obama Made Me Cry".
So thank you Huffington Post. We had a good run. And then your content became indistinguishable from Teen Vogue, and you made my own written internet-reaction disjointed and extemporaneous. I'm going to say something that, frankly, I never thought I'd think, let alone put into writing.
I'm glad you're not called the Arianna Post.
GLAD.
