How pretty is this colorful citrus photo? This time of year always reminds me of the week in college where I tried out a raw diet. I mostly ate tomatoes with tahini and so much fresh citrus and tit was kind of awesome.
Tonight, I’m making a three-course Italian dinner with Tiramisu for dessert. I’ve never had Tiramisu. I explained the vegan version of the dish to a friend: “It will be coffee soaked lady fingers (not real fingers of a woman) with a sweet cream and chocolate.” Wish me luck!
photo by emily blincoe
Okay, so my Warby Parker home try-ons arrived today, but taking pictures of my face is stressing me out. I think these might be my favorite, but mostly this whole face-having business is making me want to curl up in a corner and cry.
PS: Totally broke the seal on wearing Hello Kitty apparel to work today. Oops!
I don’t have pink hair or foam rollers or a smart phone to send emojis on, but goddamn this is perfect, and basically everything I aspire to be.
photo by mermaidens
I’ve got this feeling like all I want to do is go to the club and make my booty clap, or something like it. Two years ago I would have sent a group text and picked the place and poured myself a jar of grapefruit juice and vodka—the mason jar would be a little funny and weird, not over done, because Atlanta is not Portland. We’d pregame at someone’s apartment and there would be a seventy percent chance that we’d actually make it out. Hey, those odds are alright. And it makes me so sad, because the few times I’ve gone dancing in Portland, the music sucks and the sad hipster flailing (err, dancing) makes me want to cry. And even if I try, if I come up with a plan and send out the word, my little weird group of friends here don’t love me the way my ATL crew did. They won’t drop anything for me and they don’t count on me to plan things. I had the loneliest, saddest few days last weekend, and I told a few people I’d be on my own, maybe we could do something. Not a word. I hate feeling so alone, an afterthought or not a thought at all.
Middle school is so obviously the worst and while I spent a lot of it fairly miserable, awkward, gangly, unpopular, depressed, the works, it was also sort of magical because I was in fifth grade when I fell in love for the first time. I knew right away, this was something special. Hello Kitty, Keroppi, Pekkle, Pochacco, and friends became my greatest delight, a pricey and very, very cute obsession.
I spent a few years wrapping my Chococat scarf in a way such that the cute cat wouldn’t be visible, but now I’m ready to let my freak flag fly and rock this amazing Sanrio scarf whenever, wherever.
scarf and photo by twinkie chan
I’m pretty sure this photo represents what life is really all about: Vegan mac and cheese and pups. Yeah, dude.
photo via homegrown smoker
Ugh, I think this is the first time I’ve looked at an item of clothing that I love and thought, I am way too old to ever get away with wearing this. Plus, ain’t nobody want to see my buttcheeks. Twenty-seven is a bitch, for real.
photo/romper via threadsence
Also, I’ve been experimenting with wearing crazy pants to work. Today is the second time and no one has said anything about them.
All I want is for someone to put a liquid eyeliner cat eye on me and fill in my brows and maybe then I’ll feel like a new girlwoman.
I’m feeling crummy today, friends. I’m feeling a lot like this snow monkey, except not as cute. My mama headed home today, my honey is out of town, and I have nothing to do this weekend—and not in the good way. I’m thinking of dressing up and taking myself on a fun date, but that might be more depressing in the end. In reality, I’ll probably pick up a burrito and watch a rom-com on the couch. Sexy Can I.
photo via cute overload
My mom is visiting me this week, and I haven’t been able to stop laughing since dinner last night. I mentioned “that game I really like” (Settlers of Catan, obviously), and my mom, without hesitating, clarified, “Warriors of Satan?”
Warriors of Satan would obviously be the coolest game ever.