The Boston Globe put together a slideshow of baby zoo animals from around the world and it is very ‘awwwwww’ worthy. And you know what begins with ‘aw’?

Awesome.

What can I say? I’m a sucker for babies.

Nine years ago millions of young, idealistic girl power junkies and tramps-in-training cried their collective hearts out when Ginger Spice suddenly left the Spice Girls in the lurch right before the start of their American tour. It was no surprise when the group slowly faded into the background and songs like “Wannabe” and “2 Become 1″ fell into that category of songs that remind you of youth and better days.

But now that sorry chump who donated their Spice Girls T-shirt to Goodwill and let me buy it for 25 cents is crying again because OMG, that’s right, the fab five are reuniting. In case the anorexia, hippy-ization, motherhood, and Eddie Murphy-itis are making you forget, the picture below depicts Posh, Sporty, Ginger, Baby, and Scary in that order.

You gotta’ love them. They may all just be doing this for the $20 mil they each stand to make off of the 11 date tour and the need for money to fund their misfortuntely named children, white denim lines, and paternity suits, but we still all know the words to “Spice Up Your Life” and that means something. Even if it is just La la la la la over and over again.

Five years ago Virginia Samsel starting holding exhibitions in her locker. Since then she’s hosted over 50 exhibitions and holds color-themed receptions where wine and cheese could only be present if you managed to find a clever way of dying them the same shade of teal.

The head of the VCU painting and printmaking department says the following of Samsel and her gallery, which The Washington Post declared “one of Richmond’s most interesting contemporary art galleries”: “She’s kind of an ironic person. The whole gallery is an ironic takeoff [on] the gallery.”

While that statement goes a bit over my one-art-history-class-in-college head, I will leave you with one thought: Could there be a better way to spend a Friday evening than looking at eraser-sized sculptures while eating purple Kool-aid and nerds? I’ll leave you to read the Post coverage and decide for yourself, but I suspect not.

What do you get when four Dutch police officers try to pull over a coked-up guy driving around on a country road? …

… apparently significant damage to all five cars, a ruined cornfield, and a pretty embarrassed police department.

This is Brooke Hogan. As the name suggests, she is wrestler Hulk Hogan’s daughter. But that’s not where the relationship ends. Oh no. Because Hulk Hogan is also her manager.

Which could be why she’s been dancing around stage wearing, uh … whatever this is.

This is what I don’t understand about these crazy father managers. Joe Simpson, Hulk Hogan. They on one hand act psychotically protective and crazy while on the other hand force their daughters to wear trampy, hideous clothing. (And allow them to pose on the front of men’s magazines. like Brooke here, apparently the first chick under 21 to be on the cover of FHM.) Yet, despite the fact that Hulk pushes Brooke to wear painfully tasteless crotch-less and ass-less pants, he apparently disapproved of her dating Aaron Carter–possibly the woosiest boy pop star in the history of woosy boy pop starts–and has outfitted her car with a GPS system that both allows him to see where she is at all times and lets him shut of the car remotely.

Brook, I’ve got to tell you. Your father may have been great at wrestling, but fashion? No, a yellow speedo doesn’t count. Just because your father lived in an era where it was normal to wanter around in your underwear, it doesn’t mean that you have to me bound by the same rules. Or if you want to, that’s fine–just lose the “pants.”

Nothing can possibly be said to add to the awe-inspiring nature of this photo.

Sometimes a girl’s having a bad day and all she wants is to be able to pick up a trashy romance. Even better, a trashy romance about a witch.

If you get that urge–beware! Annette Blair is a poser who knows nothing about real magic. Love potions? Brookstick riding? Harry Potter look-alikes? Spells? No. According to her, wands are good for nothing more than making terrible double-entendres about the manhood of certain hunky males.

Basically, Annette Blair has taken an amazing concept and turned it into a goopy pile of mud. Plus, her website sucks.

People of America, please stop homeschooling your children. They just turn out to be anti-social, poorly mannered freaks, with inflated egos, whose only discernible skills are memorization and superior spelling skills, and lets be honest, not so important in a world with wikipedia and spell check.

So unless you wanna end up like these people:

Send your damn kids to school.

In anticipation of snarky comments about my lack of tolerance for others’ mild laziness, I freely admit that on the scale of “not awesome” this entry’s subject does not rank high. Or low. Whatever: it’s not really all that not-awesome, and its unawesomeness does not stem from any inherently bad quality most rational people would agree with. But I have a (maybe irrational) dislike of it, and deem it Not Awesome because I have the power to Decide these things.

I am speaking, of course, of non-handipcapped people’s use of the automatic-door-opener-thing. You know, that metal square you hit outside of a door that makes the door open automatically. (Does this have a name more official [and concise] than “automatic-door-opener-thing”? If so, holla back in comments.)

I don’t really know why it irritates me when people capable of reaching out to grasp the door handle and rotating their arm clockwise by 90 degrees choose instead to hit that metal button to make the door open on its own. It’s not as if this hurts handicapped people, like able-bodied people parking in handicapped parking spots does.

To justify my not-awesome classification I’m going to say that using the handicapped door-opener-thing when you can open the friggin door yourself wastes, uh, electricity. So you’re contributing to global warming every time you punch that metal button, hoss. Way to kill the polar bears.

On Negativity Day, it’s also important to give voice to others. At least those who share identical views to ours. Therefore I’d like to share with you the good works of an important advocacy group

In 1995 Microsoft released the font Comic Sans originally designed for comic book style talk bubbles containing informational help text. Since that time the typeface has been used in countless contexts from restaurant signage to college exams to medical information. These widespread abuses of printed type threaten to erode the very foundations upon which centuries of typographic history are built.

While we recognize the font may be appropriate in a few specific instances, our position is that the only effective means of ending this epidemic of abuse is to completely ban Comic Sans.

Please listen to them. Comic sans is the ugliest font of all time. it has to stop sometime. If you have a soul, sign this petition and help make it stop.