After the passion of Valentine's Day, where we once again (or maybe for the first time!) profess our love to the person we hold dearest, we've got... Presidents' Day. Not sexy, we know. Not in the slightest. But! There's good news. This holiday, meant to recognize the two greatest American presidents, is now a celebration of something else, something tangible: Deals. So great are the Presidents' Day sales that it's becoming the marquee shopping event of the first-half of the year. There are great deals all around. So like the red-blooded patriots and dedicated public servants we are, we and sought out the best of the best and put them all in one place. That way you, loyal reader, can honor America's leaders by smashing Add to Cart on this season's steals. |
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Prices that won't keep you up at night. |
| Inspiration for your holiday. |
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Have fun learning and get access to Babbel's app-based lessons, podcasts, games, and live classes. |
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| There's this thing actors do when they really give a shit about a character. Gabriel Luna, who plays Tommy Miller in The Last of Us, does this thing—the thing that shows he really gives a shit. We're catching up couple of weeks before Episode Six airs when Luna starts speaking about the on-screen action in the first person. He's not, suddenly, Gabriel Luna, 40-year-old actor. He's Tommy Miller, brother of Pedro Pascal's Joel and an ex-Firefly who has improbably found a full life in the apocalypse. "All he's asking me in that moment is to do him this favor," says Tommy-Gabriel of Joel's big ask in Sunday night's installment. "I explain that I would have to choose my own family at this point and he has a very adverse response to that. I respond just because his life ended, it doesn't mean mine has to. It's not that I don't love our family and I didn't love [Joel's daughter] Sarah. I have to tread forward. And Joel's not really prepared for that quite yet." |
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| Including AirPods, MacBooks, and the Apple Watch Series 7. |
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| It's a story I'd hear over and over again, each time as horrifying as the last, every time I wondered why I couldn't balance on two wheels, give myself a push, and pedal to nowhere. When my mom was a kid, she was balancing and pushing and pedaling—the complicated and thoughtless series of motions we call riding a bike—and spun out of control into the rusty back fender of a car. The handlebar jammed straight into her appendix. Didn't burst, though. Worse. She sat around in pain for five days until it burst. Then came the trip to the hospital, the doctor who asked if she could walk five feet across the room (nope!), amnesia, surgery, the works. Bikes? Well, bikes were now bad. No more bikes. 30 years later, it became my mom's mission—aside from breaking me from the Chicken Nugget Diet—to make sure her children would never, ever, learn how to ride a bike. End of story. If you ever forgot why, well, let my mom tell you about the time a bike detonated her appendix from the outside in. |
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