- Martha is permanently stuck on sass-mode. Nothing deeper to report.
- “Hi. I’m Issac. I like long walks on the beech. The writings of Levi. And this rifle.”
- The Handmaid’s Tale is going to Canada! Wooooooo! Someone start a round of “If I Had A Million Dollars”!
- And the award for deep-rooted irony goes to… Voldefred, for his “the Canadians need to know that you’re not an abused woman living in an oppressed society that YOU WERE TOTALLY IN-PART RESPONSIBLE FOR.”
- Hey! Childwife made cookies. And HusbandBlankStare is sure… Nick.
- Serena Joy sure is a bitch. “When the baby pops out, you gon’ bitch.” “Bu—” “Suck it, whore.”
- Oh, hey! Luke woke the fuuuuuudge up when he saw his wife’s ritual rapist. YAY!
- Moira… it’s time to learn strategic ninja star throwing.
- That’s right, Serena. Gaze upon a metropolis filled with energy, life, words, love, and civility. It turns out you didn’t need to reduce society to some psuedo-Amish backwards-assed joyless patriarchy! Now, smile and be pretty for the meetings like a good bitch. (Get it. That’s a pun, because she’s an obedient female dog, and an ass!)
- SICK GAY BURN, BRAH!
- It’s hard not to make a thousand notes tonight. I’m sorry. DID THEY JUST GIVE HER A PICTURE-GRAM SCHEDULE?! Ha! I mean, I literally paused on her grimace just to soak it up.
- Unwoman. Gun to the temple. I’m rewinding to Serena’s face.
- Won’t even share the elevator with her. Suck it, Housefrau Bitchface. You are amidst free people.
- Take the treason and coconuts, idiot. WHO KNEW THAT SCIENCE TRUMPS YOUR DOPEY FAKE RELIGION. I love Mr. America. He’s cruel in the BEST way.
- Childwife… meet Childsoldier. Ya’ll should make with the sex.
- Hey! BlandMartha. Poison the Waterfords.
- Mark it down. It’s the first time I have ever loved Luke. I may never again. Oh, and screw off, Nick.
- Aunt Bitchbag loves the children. Doesn’t think much of women. But lerves her some berbers.
- Diplomacy over, bitches. Serena’s face? I could bathe in her sadness and shame.
- You had me until the God Bless America sing-a-long. Just… no. Stop it.
- Look upon your closet of teal, and weep… thundercunt.
- Poor Nick. Now you know June likes em tall, dark, and mildly Canadian.
