I love this movie. It's probably one of my favorite schlock fantasy movies. The casting was way better than it had any right to be - Hugh Jackman, sure, but Kate Beckinsale? Well, I guess she was fresh off Underworld, so she was still in that headspace. And Richard Roxburgh doing the perfect amount of scene-chewing for the villain.. introducing himself properly as Vladislaus Draculea.. and the opening scene, shot just like a 1920s Universal monster movie! I legitimately think it's the closest we'll ever get to a live action Castlevania. I could go on, but I'll spare you. Might be time for a rewatch.

Disclaimer: this isn't really my thing, so I have kind of an outsider's understanding and may be incorrect. I'm sure someone will be happy to correct me if I'm wrong about something.

Ok, let's break this down a little. First of all: boy pussy, or "bussy", is not an actual biological orifice that exists, as you may have guessed. Rather, it's a slang term meant to convey the metaphorical sexual concept that a male asshole - usually belonging to a sub/bottom or twink (but the term can apply to anyone willing) - has become an erogenous zone, possibly (depending on usage in dirty talk) that it will never again fulfill any other purpose.

Naturally, since it is a BOY pussy, it's not something that you would find on a woman, so the man in this story, while having sex with his wife, let slip that he was fantasizing about having sex with someone else. This does not seem to be her issue, as she mentions that they are at least somewhat in an open relationship and so him having sex with another woman would not be out of the question. However, she seems to take offense at the idea that he is fantasizing about having sex with another man, which is not something they would presumably have discussed prior to opening their relationship.

Hope this clears things up a little. Cheers!

I had originally written that, but I went and looked it up and it actually is "this". ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS, WHO AM I TO DISAGREE

You forgot about the part of option 2 where you realize midway through explaining that the other person either understood and you misread the situation, or they just don't care, but now you've gotten too far into the explanation and you just have to power through even though literally every fiber of your being is telling you to shut up

... wait

He didn't even die there, if you can believe it. Though he is catatonic and carried home by Jean Grey. This is one of the few comic books I actually had.

Immediately after this, Xavier gets pissed and completely mind-wipes Erik, something he promised he'd never do. This causes a part of his psyche to splinter off, eventually kidnap Franklin Richards, and merge with him to become Onslaught.

Then an amnesiac, de-aged Magneto shows up to help the X-Men fight Onslaught.

Comics are wild, man.

I think what set off the recent wave is when she threatened legal action against the person posting her private jet's tracking information. She (or her legal team) was alleging that it enabled stalking, but the tracking data is public information so stalkers would already have had access to it.

Superior Iron Man! The lead up to the story is: a lot of Marvel heroes were magically turned evil, things happened and they all were returned to normal, EXCEPT for Tony, who somehow managed to avoid being returned to normal AND hide that he was still evil, and went on to do some decidedly "modern billionaire tech bro" horrible shit with his advanced tech.

What a fucked up storyline. Still a good read, though.

No! Damn it! The only thing I liked about his career more than B99 was going back to all of the other things I'd seen him in and recognizing him there. He was excellent on House - played a beautiful foil to Hugh Laurie all throughout Season 6.

Rest in peace, Captain. You will be sorely missed.

Oof. As an American, my heart goes out to you. I wouldn't wish our healthcare system on anyone.

It's still way more than "none". Let's not let perfect be the enemy of good.

My dad loves to yell. Not at me, anymore, but he got it from his mother - they used to work out their problems in the form of screaming matches. I remember early in my teenage years he would bring up, almost out of nowhere sometimes, that he never hit us. He was proud of that. But man oh man, he sure loved to yell at us.

I only remember my grandfather yelling at me, once. It's not even fair to say "yelling AT me", because he was yelling FOR me - I was a dumb kid and I'd left the front door open to go outside and play. Once I got in front of him, he explained to me - calmly, quietly, but firmly - why I couldn't do that. I never did it again. I don't remember him yelling before or since that moment.

I miss my grandfather - he's the source of some of my fondest childhood memories and I can only hope I do him proud. Meanwhile, when my dad dies, I'll be glad to be rid of him. So, you do the math.