1000000 tries (Taken with instagram)
1000000 tries (Taken with instagram)
Saddle creek records . (Taken with instagram)
Sometimes you meet your livejournal friends 10 years later and get drunk at the Cheesecake Factory 3 nights in a row. SO WHAT WHO CARES (Taken with instagram)
Drunk Ron Swanson is this year’s Halloween costume. But since I’m black, everyone will probably just think I’m Danny Glover.
Wow. Well done.
I dislike any critique of a famous woman that boils down to “she seems too perfect!” Because that just seems like women revolting against the beauty standard and/or the expectation that we’ll all be perfect little dolls with no inconvenient needs or feelings. But it doesn’t have anything to do…
WOAH.
The feeling I get when I look at this is the feeling I imagine single middle aged ladies get when they see a picture of a baby with food on its face.
(Source: fybeds, via sweethomestyle)
As it would turn out, even a project that revolves entirely around drinking is still too difficult for us to get started. Since the inception two months ago of Dem Bitches Be Drankin’ (and yes, that title is still funny to us), said Bitches have been out drankin scarcely enough times to count on…
I promise we’re going to start soon! I just wish there was a bar that served 12 hour SVU marathons along with their cocktails. OH WAIT, THERE IS: my bed.
This girl is like, 20 and fucking cool as balls. Basically I think this because she is exactly like me, but then I get bummed out because she is cool as balls four years ahead of of me and I hate it when people do shit better than I do it.
i’m five days into winter break and already i don’t know what to do with myself. there are only so many hours in the day i can fill with olivia benson and elliott stabler. now, i WOULD just be drunk all the time like i was during the summer except i’m too young to do practically anything that happens after 9pm … aside from, sit in my bed, (illegally) drink a can of coors light and watch SVU. dammit, i am way too interesting to be this boring.
One fateful evening not long ago (read: last Wednesday) Jordin and Fai were enjoying a couple of late night libations at Amante in North Beach. “Fai,” Jordin said to her tiny counterpart, delicately sipping a finely crafted dirty martini, “I very much enjoy our weekly get togethers here at Amante,…
I started a new blog with a tiny Asian! We are going to get drunk and then tell you all about it
Awesome.
these seven minutes seriously encompass everything i love about movie trailers. i’m finding the dude who made this so we can get married and have lots of sex and babies.
note: when the boy you like rises from your bed the next morning and asks you to come have dim sum, the answer that comes out of your mouth should be “yes.” even if you don’t want dim sum, even if you want a fat burger and a milkshake, even if you don’t particularly want to go outside at all because it is hot and you are hungover and you smell kind of weird and it’s more fun to lay around in bed watching dr. katz, you say yes to dim sum; because saying yes to blow jobs but no to lunch dates kind of sends the wrong goddamn message.
so i’ve been seeing this dude for a few weeks and last night decided to break up with him basically because he is lame and i am awesome. i did not say this during said break up, but i’m pretty sure he knew that was the reason. he came over after work bearing spinach knishes that his mother made. the knishes i can get behind, but the 31 year old man still living with his jewish mother who hates me with the fire of one thousand suns was a contributing factor to the whole let’s-not-see-each-other-anymore thing. it presented a problem though, as how does one break up and still enjoy delicious, yiddish fried goods? it’s a delicate thing and must be approached cautiously. unfortunately, by the time he came over i had the entire contents of a bottle of shiraz coursing through my veins and i just bulldozed my way right through it. we had some of that break up sex you hear so much about and i won’t lie, part of the reason i agreed to it was because i was hoping he would offer up the knishes later in the post-coital pre-getthehelloutofmyhouse -glow. THIS WAS NOT THE CASE. he got dressed, put on his dumb hat that he thinks makes him look like christian bale circa newsies but in fact makes him look like fucking barbra streisand circa yentl, and left, knishes in tow. now it is saturday morning and i am seriously considering calling his mother and asking her to make me some; she’ll probably like me now that i’m not banging her son.
There are some days when I am overwhelmingly sad because I feel like I have too much love and nobody who is ready to take it. It becomes so heavy, taking up so much space in my chest that it crawls up my throat and out my eyes and some of it falls onto the pillows or my sleeve, but the rest gets sucked back into my pores and recycles itself for the next big wave.