I’m all about these simple, bohemian engagement photos. Gorgeous.
photo via green wedding shoes
I haven’t shared a link list in ages, but here are some great things I’ve found lately:
This is old, but Paul Rudd answering Rookie readers’ questions for a grown man is pretty awesome. (I love Paul Rudd so much.)
I was blown away by Fog Count, a great essay by Leslie Jamison.
Pussy Talk. Garance Dore is hilarious.
Photographer Dave Wild kept a disposable camera in a geocache he hid in an English park. He created a video slideshow—ten years of geocachers’ photos!
Baseball is back, and I need this shirt.
I don’t trust anyone this pretty. (But the wedding is gorgeous.)
Pretty Palm Springs homes. I’ll take Places I’d Like to Be Right Now for $1,000.
Seriously beautiful vegan spring rolls.
Now, I read the New York Times wedding announcements and I am angry and bitter, because the pedigrees on these married people are just insane. This bride is gorgeous and sounds really cool and I wish her every happiness, but her father is an ambassador working with the president of Nigeria, who is named Goodluck Jonathan. That is a seriously great name. Her grandfather is freaking Wole Soyinka. She’s an attorney, and she met her husband at a dinner party in London. And now I’m just, like, sobbing because my parents are from the midwest and we are not a worldly family and even if I do ever get married, my wedding certainly won’t be featured in the New York Times.
It’s like browsing LinkedIn, which I need to stop doing. All these kids I went to law school with are associates at law firms with a million names and they have these gorgeous, absolutely perfect photos. I don’t want to work for a law firm, but I really want a portrait taken by whatever Photoshop genius they have taking pictures at these firms. They make my erstwhile schoolmates look completely flawless. For the record, my LinkedIn photo is me drunk on margaritas (but not obviously so) at a cantina in Atlanta.
photo via new york times
“We could probably talk about the talents and what we’ve added for a long time, but I think in the end what really creates a winning environment is a team that comes together early in the year, as early as possible. When you’ve got a group of guys that can buy into what you’re trying to do here at the big-league level, it makes it a lot easier to go out there and really know what your purpose is, and ours is just to win.”
David Price is on the cover of Sports Illustrated, the Rays are opening against the O’s today, and I am so ready. Thank goodness baseball is back. Go Rays!
The symbolism of bashing an ampersand a a wedding is probably a little questionable, but I do love this ampersand pinata, and I do still sort of think it would be awesome for an outdoor wedding.
photo by meu pinata
I live for Internet April Fools’ Jokes. Google kills it with their Gmail Blue launch video, though with the new Gmail features, it hits a little close to home.
I’m not much for Easter because I’ve never celebrated it, but I do love: warm, sunny days, feeling (a little) better, Indian buffets, walks in the park, sunning myself in the garden, reading, eating chocolate, and taking cozy naps. And I certainly love this bunny wearing a floral collar.
photo via green wedding shoes
I’ve been cooped up sick all week, and because I am whiny and hypochondriacal when I am sick, the thoughts I have had go something like this: I am going to die. This is the worst thing ever. Poor baby. (The baby to whom I am referring, of course, is myself.) You don’t deserve this. Nobody cares for me.
Yes, I am even more self-indulgent and self-pitying than usual when I am ill.
But mostly I am at the point where Gatorade (lemon-lime has been my flavor of choice, this go around) ceases to be amazing and instead becomes vile and disgusting and too cloyingly sweet as I gulp down moremore of it. What I really want to know is what the hell happened to mango Gatorade, the most lovely Gatorade flavor to grace Publix shelves.
“Avocados are my favorite fruit. Every Sunday my grandfather used to bring me an avocado pear hidden at the bottom of his briefcase under six soiled shirts and the Sunday comics. He taught me how to eat avocados by melting grape jelly and French dressing together in a saucepan and filling the cup of the pear with the garnet sauce. I felt homesick for that sauce.”
- Sylvia Plath, the Bell Jar
You know that saying about how every generation thinks they invented sex? I’ve long thought that the same is true of avocados. You’re a rockstar if you bring an avocado-topped salad to a potluck. I’ve been on long car rides where avocados are the main topic of conversation. Folks shell out $1.25 to add guacamole to their burrito at Chipotle. That’s a lot of money, y’all. People suddenly think avocado toast is the hautest of cuisines. In college, I picked an avocado from a tree that drooped a few of its lovely green fruits over public land. I named him Allen and then I got too sad to eat the poor thing.
Leah Reich, a writer and blogger and photographer I have admired for some years, wrote a piece about the many varietals of avocados for the Atlantic. We eat mostly Hass avocados, and sometimes Florida ones. (I don’t care for the latter.) Not only am I missing out on costume parties and being happy and drinking whiskey and being a good writer—things I never do—but Ms. Reich suggests that I am missing out on Pinkertons and Reeds, Zutanos and Bacons. The author says that these more rare types of avocado are far more amazing than the humble Hass.
What do I know of avocados, then? Of life? Is it all a lie, a dream, a farce?
photo by balotto
Girls x Spring Breakers. Awesome possum.
I am totally stoked to see Spring Breakers, mostly because it was filmed in the Tampa Bay/Sarasota area, with some scenes filmed at my alma mater. Also, someone tell me what we’re supposed to do until Girls season three starts? My Sunday nights are so tragic now.
