Rae Paoletta

On Valentine’s Day, Roberto and I went to a restaurant called Trawen, tucked away in the resort village of Pucón. After perusing the drink selection, I decided on a mojito with something called “Träkál” in it. I am assumed it was rum, but it wasn’t. It was better. The first sip of my mojito con frutilla was almost transcendentally good, and not in a saccharine Eat, Pray, Love way. It tasted the way listening to Enya and looking at corgis on Instagram makes you feel; like waking up three hours b

Around the turn of the 20th century, American entrepreneur Clark Stanley sold an allegedly healing “rattlesnake oil” out of his stage coach. Stanley marketed his product as a Western interpretation of some ideas he supposedly gathered from Eastern medicine, claiming the product could cure a whole host of illnesses. The problem was, a federal investigation revealed that not only did Stanley’s snake oil lack any medicinal value, it contained no actual oil from snakes. Over a hundred years later, G

My cat, Artemis, is a bustling career woman. She has many jobs that she juggles between stealing my hair ties and spilling her kibble; in addition to serving as the Mayor of Fluffingsville, she runs a network of freelancers as Editor-in-Chief of Catmodo. Since both of us are busy most of the day at our respective places of work, we forget to check in on each other. Thankfully, Petcube’s newest gadget, Petcube Bites, lets humans check in on their furry companions when they’re apart. It also lets us fling treats at them on command which is both heartwarming and mildly horrifying.

There’s no shortage of things to be mad about in late capitalism. Pretty high on the list, though, is the Eat, Pray, Love brand of pseudoscience promoted by Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop. Somehow, Goop—which previously encouraged women to shove eggs up their vaginas—has out-Gooped itself: the brand is now promoting stickers called “Body Vibes.”