"the night is far spent, the day is at hand. therefore let us cast off the works of darkness and let us put on the armor of light."
“don’t fix my smile. life is long enough - we can put this flesh into the ground again.”
Freelance Whales - Generator ^ Second Floor (via stufenkollege)
Luke: I’m different, I’m a loner.
Lorelai: Oh no. No no. I don’t want to hear about the romance of being a loner.
Luke: Some guys are just naturally loners.
Lorelai: Yes, lonely guys.
Luke: Independent guys.
Lorelai: Sad guys.
Luke: Maverick guys.
Lorelai: Lee Harvey Oswald.
Luke: John Muir.
Lorelai: The unabomber.
Luke: Henry David Thoreau
Lorelai: Every one of these sad and lonely guys.
“All right everybody, for tomorrow I want you to write a history poem on Hiroshima. But nothing too faaaaaggy.”
-Stephen Colbert, Strangers With Candy
Officials in Pecica, a village town about 13 miles from the Hungarian border in the country’s west, ordered the bright red signs, complete with the phrase “Attention - Drunks”. (via Romanian street sign warns drivers of ‘drunk pedestrians’ - Telegraph)
Roberto Espinosa, proprietor of Tacodeli and the breakfast taco interpreter of the moment, espouses a slacker consumer theory of why Austin — a city thick with creative folk, techies, students and politicians — has embraced breakfast tacos. “People wake up at all hours of the day,” Mr. Espinosa, a native of Mexico City, said as he served a taco, piled with scrambled eggs and drenched in a purée of russets and jalapeños that he calls Mexican mashed potatoes. “Maybe the first meal of their day comes at 11 in the morning, and maybe it comes at 2 in the afternoon,” Mr. Espinosa said, as customers queued for migas tacos, bound with jack cheese. “They want a taco, and they want breakfast. And a breakfast taco gets you both.” (via United Tastes - Tacos in the Morning? That’s the Routine in Austin, Tex. - Series - NYTimes.com)
i would just like to say that you can take the girl out of the honky tonk (a) and you can’t get the hell outta texas (b) and that’s right, i’m not from texas, that’s right i’m not from texas, that’s right i’m not from texas but texas loves me anyway (c)
also. i’ve always been a fan of mexican mashed potatoes. i’ve been making them for years. a little choluha…
hb: ugh. i may have to go to iowa for work at the end of the month.
rb: ugggh. but dude the cows! you can go click clack and they can go mooooo and then you’re a children’s book! you will think this when you see cows now. i’m sorry.
hb: why can’t i go lovely places like paris or san fran or even somewhere warm like miami
rb: because we don’t sing will smith songs nearly well enough to be invited to miami. and sf is for people with less awesome shoes than you wear. and as for paris, well, darling, gertrude stein must think it’s got to be a trip for passion, not work.
champagnecandy:ekswitaj:jadedhippy:ihatethismess:dummefotze:iisabelle:adailyriot:adamquinn:savagemike:
Our national priorities are so fucked.
I made less than $15,000 as a grad teaching assistant.
I made zero money as a grad student because my program was so impoverished (despite being one of the best in the country) that they couldn’t afford to give AI, TA, or research positions to those in the masters program, only PhD’s.
OH MY GOD THIS IS AMAZING. also, sorry, as a phd AND staff… seriously, i’m still thinking bear should earn way more than the president anyway. especially presbo, at least.
Marilyn Monroe & Jane Russell take a break on the set of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, (1952, photo by Ed Clark)
“Marilyn is a dreamy girl. She’s the kind who’s liable to show up with one red shoe and one black shoe.”
-Jane Russell
gentleman do prefer blondes. so do raleighs. i have a snow white (because i’m obscenely fair) complex and all the other kids in my blood-siblings have dark hair. (this was before matthew was born. he has my coloring, so i feel redeemed.) anyway, they look so DASHING with their dark looks. and i wanted to look DASHING too. so i dyed my hair a very dark chestnut color. being as fair as i am, and having hair that bleaches in the sun, it wasn’t very long before it was raisin colored. and that’s when i concluded that (a) you should never have hair darker than your eyebrows, and mine are pale blonde and (b) really, blondes do have more fun. although that was in my duck phase, where i was really into finding ponds with ducks and feeding them, so i did have fun. but that was different. yeah, blonde all the way. that was all.
Emily: You were on the phone?
Richard: Long distance.
Lorelai: God?
Richard: London.
Lorelai: God lives in London?
Richard: My mother lives in London.
Lorelai: Your mother is God?
Richard: Lorelai…
Lorelai: So, God *is* a woman.
Richard: Lorelai.
Lorelai: *And* a relative. That’s so cool. I’m gonna totally ask for favors.
Richard: Make her stop.
Rory: Oh, that I could.
Things that happened last night:
I DID leave work, and at a decent hour
strand (where you no longer have to check your bag, amazing)
spice with hannah and alex w one lychee mojito
and that’s when the bad ideas started. after all leaving and saying our goodbyes, hannah decided we should get one more drink. one more drink wound up being five? (five? how many shots were there? i stopped counting.)
i got asked out by a calvin klein model named luigi
i drunk texted JUST ABOUT EVERYONE I KNOW - remember, i gave up txting for lent? is it easter yet? yeah.
i attempted to carry on an intellectual (cannot even remember how much i drank at this point) conversation in italian about the merits of various translations of proust (“mi piace il viola” is what i remember saying on repeat)
i cooked the entire contents of my fridge (remember, we already ate dinner) including but not limited to: a duck breast, mashed potatoes, and brussel sprouts.
i apparently visited with alex when i got home, but i have no memory of this. i do remember walking puppy. so there’s that.
and the house was still standing and the oven off when i woke up… so i think it’s okay. now if i could only replace the alcohol level of my blood with water, we’d be in good shape.
moral of this story: don’t discuss proust in foreign languages with calvin klein models, don’t keep duck in your fridge, and whatever you do, avoid any and all shots that taste like jam. it’s only a disaster. drunk texting… well. i need something to repent.
(“Black raspberry mojito” via quinn.anya on flickr)
