the1trueluigi:

nukuler:

Hi. We want to cook a bacon dinner for you on September 7th in Greenpoint, Brooklyn.

You want to do what now?! Make me a BACON DINNER where I first lived upon migrating to the states?!?! So…what do you need…an organ…a limb…MY VERY SOUL?!?!

Thanks, but the meat is taken care of, so we’ll take $40 instead.

This Summer I Am All In On:

  1. Crop tops
  2. Arduino
  3. Role playing games
  4. New Orleans style cold brew
  5. The clean and jerk
  6. Ample Hills every day

kickstartereveryday:

The magnificent hair-beardos of Kickstarter.

xuhulk:

updatesupdatesupdates:

THE “OFFICIAL” RULES OF BOOBS, DEATHS, DINKS as played by East and West contingents of people-I’ve-watched-GoT-with:

  1. Beforehand, everyone provides a guess as to how many boobs, how many deaths, and how many scenes with Peter Dinklage will be in that night’s episode.
  2. This can go either by column or by row. Either everyone guesses boobs in order, then deaths, etc. Or the first person guesses all three, then the next person. Different groups like different methods.
  3. One person is selected as note-taker for ep. They should get a piece of paper. Others can help keep count, but it’s the note-taker’s ultimate responsibility. (Book-fans make the best note-takers if available).
  4. At the end of the ep. each player gets a score for each category. Their score is how many numbers off their guess was (no Price is Right rules…you can go over). Your total score is your boobs, death, and dink scores added together.
  5. The player with the lowest total score wins. Ties are acceptable.
  6. Prizes to be awarded at hosts discretion.
  • BOOBS: traditionally only human lady boobs count (feel free to include peen in this category, just let everyone know ahead of time). The boob count is determined by exposed nipple. Boobs are counted singularly, rather than in pairs (there can be odd numbered boob counts). Seeing the same character’s boobs in multiple scenes does not count as multiple boobs. Dead boobs count.
  • DEATHS: deaths are counted as any on screen death or the off-screen death during the episode of a named character (animals with names count).
  • DINKS: Dinklage scenes go by screenplay rules. Different shots within the same scene/location do not another Dink make. But a new scene with Dinklage, even if there has been no cut to another character or scene in between, still counts.
  • AMBIGUITY: All of these can be difficult to discern. Fervent debate encouraged. Coincidentally, drinking also encouraged.

If you play this with us, the customary prize is a portrait of Jon Snow by whoever kept track of the score. So far, Nicole has won TWICE, possibly because she has the Sight.

Here’s to pre-mosquito summer.

No one asked for this but for some reason I saturated the internet yesterday with Opinions.

1) I did guest recommendations for Bygone Bureau, where I wrote a recipe for Chinese comfort food, cry-laughed playing Sportsfriends, and encouraged women to lift weights with a pinch of #misandry.

2) For the Kickstarter blog I talked about a few of the (more unusual) projects I love.

3) I had a Gchat convo with my friend Kevin about all of our azn feelings and he put in his newsletter. (The newsletter is great and normally has far less me in it and is therefore worth signing up for!)

(I am very tickled that Hallie Bateman got my ombré and eye mole in this illustration.)

My weird Tamagotchi experiment

A few weeks ago, I bid for an original, 1996-1997 Tamagotchi on eBay. It’s the same kind I had as a second grader, and I was curious what it would be like to try to “raise” this “cyber pet” as an adult in 2014.

After replacing the battery (an arduous journey in itself), I pulled the tag out and hatched an egg. I named my Tamagotchi Jennifer. She’s now ten days old and I carry her wherever I go, trying to remember to take care of her when I can. Every couple hours, I feed her, clean her poop, play games with her, turn off her light when she’s sleeping, and discipline her when she acts out (yeah, “disciplining”—no one remembers that particularly fascinating and bizarre mechanic).

A big part of this ongoing experiment has been me tweeting about her life, which is an absolutely ridiculous and obnoxious thing to do, but the act of creating a narrative around this strange thing has made me feel more invested in what happens to her. It’s also been interesting to see the reactions of other people to this experiment, which range from “what the fuck are you doing” to visceral nostalgia to intrigue (mostly from game designers or people who are into internet art).

She’ll die. Maybe soon. I actually have no idea when, but I think some existential doubt will start appearing in her Twitter feed as they begin entering my own mind.

If you want to follow along in Jennifer’s life story, you can do so here.

amajor7:

my queen
amajor7:

my queen

1980’s Businesswoman Comics by Kate Beaton

gpoy 
1980’s Businesswoman Comics by Kate Beaton

gpoy

1980’s Businesswoman Comics by Kate Beaton

gpoy

(via wordsandturds)

One of the weirder things I did last weekend was when I was in Flushing with my friends Christina and Brennan. We had been eating nonstop for a few hours when one of us (me) half-jokingly suggested that we should get foot rubs together, and next thing you know we were walking down a dingy flight of stairs to a strange basement, where we followed signs with hand-drawn pictures of feet until we found some people who pointed us towards a dark room.

"What if we all accidentally get happy endings???" was obviously a thought that crossed my mind but like every other time, I ignored it.

The dark room had pink walls and was decorated with Christmas lights, and there were two old Chinese people already getting foot rubs. They were asleep. I was wearing a dress and tights so someone handed me a pair of sweatshorts that said BROOKLYN in cursive. I changed behind a curtain, about a foot away from a naked person getting a full body massage.

I went back out into the dark pink room and sat in between Christina and Brennan in our separate chairs. Three burly Chinese men came out, each with a vat of Vaseline. They got to work destroying our feet, and it alternated between feeling ticklish and extremely painful. Unfortunately I think I’m deceptively stoic in the face of pain so the dude rubbing my feet unwittingly tore me to pieces.

The Chinese men were confused by how non-Chinese Christina and I were and made fun of us for it, but thankfully Christina, who is a much better Asian than me, gave them shit in return. Everyone made fun of Brennan because he’s white.

After 30 minutes the timers went off and it was over. I couldn’t tell if my feet felt better or worse. The two old people that were getting massages beside us were still asleep. Actually they might have been dead.

We each paid $10 plus tip.

So yeah Flushing is pretty cool, you should totally check it out sometime.

kickstarter:

Hey New York! We’re hosting another Kickstarter Open House on March 20th. Whether you’re making a film, designing a fashion line, launching an app or anything in between, no creative idea is too weird, big or small. Come hang out!

RSVP required.

This is me pretending to know how to plan an event!!!! Anyway, it’ll be fun. You should come.

Today I bought Dark Souls II and also a new lipstick so get ready for my new YouTube video series of videogame/make-up combo reviews

Yo I was just in Iceland.

Once I process the skyr-flavored thoughts swirling around in my brain I’ll write them down.

kfan:

Dear Santa. I need some advice for how to make Pokemon real. Why do I need some advice because I can not get Pokemon out of my mind. I need a very good answer. If you have a answer please send a messag back

From Kinnell

My 8-year-old wrote an off-season letter to Santa because he’s so sad and stressed about the fact that he might never get to have a real Pokemon in his life 

Me too dude. Me too.