!!!!!!!

71 notes

Goodnight everyone.

Congrats to Max and the other guys who are responsible for literally putting an alligator in my lap.

A white, thirty-something yuppie with curly brown hair and glasses walks into the deli on the corner of Franklin and Prospect. He’s wearing a puffy vest. He makes a beeline for the beverages, picks up a bottle, and walks over to the counter.

Yuppie: Just this please. (places a plastic bottle of lemon-lime flavored seltzer water on the counter.)

Deli guy: That’ll be $1.50.

Yuppie: (eyes widen) ONE FIFTY??? For THIS?? (picks the bottle up and shakes it in sheer rage and disbelief)

Deli guy: …yes.

Yuppie: Ugh. Nevermind. (puts the bottle on the counter and storms out of the deli)

Asian Girl Holding Cat Food: :(

(end scene)

2013-03-17 5 notes

Fried eggs with sautéed kale and pesto on toast.

2013-03-12 9 notes

Someone accidentally used my email to sign up for Pinterest, and at first I was like “UGH” (this has happened more hilariously with OKCupid as well), but then I accidentally clicked something and long story short before I realized what was happening I ended up being inspired to do this with my hair today. Oops.

2013-03-10 2 notes

Sunday.

2013-03-08 4 notes

Thank you, mysterious Indian feminist!

2013-03-07 6 notes

Damsel in Distress: Part 1 - Tropes vs Women in Video Games

I’m pretty stoked about seeing the first episode of Tropes vs Women in Video Games, a video series by a brave woman who’s had to deal with an incredible amount of bullshit. Congrats, Anita!

185 notes

In modern America we believe racism to be the property of the uniquely villainous and morally deformed, the ideology of trolls, gorgons and orcs. We believe this even when we are actually being racist.

— The Good, Racist People - NYTimes.com (via wonklife)

(via notational)

Source: The New York Times

2013-03-06 2 notes

Egg salad and avocado toast…or simulacrum of a Wednesday morning facial expression?

2013-03-05 10 notes

The juice bar in my neighborhood names its juices after results you want to achieve or specific ailments you want to cure, like Cold Killer or Hypertension, though I just made those two up as examples because I don’t remember the exact names and I don’t even really know what Hypertension is. But you get the point.

I’d been wanting to try their tasty-sounding blend of carrot, apple, pineapple, cucumber and ginger for months. Unfortunately, this particular juice is called the Sexy Body, and I wasn’t about to say the words “I’d like a small sexy body, please,” in a public space or worse, have someone think that I was only ordering the juice because I am trying to acquire a sexy body.

I considered saying something like “Can I have that juice with the carrot, apple, pineapple, cucumber and ginger,” but that’s just as bad as saying “Can I have that one with the beef and cheese and beans…” because you don’t know how to pronounce “pabellón.”

(I have done this.)

So finally yesterday I was just like #yolo and mustered up enough courage to open my mouth and blurt “I’d like a small Sexy Body, please,” to get the juice that I wanted, and hey, it worked! No one laughed at me. It tasted really good. The end.

2013-03-04 6 notes

Anonymous asked: What was your surgery all about?

You know, I was going to make up an absurd answer about swallowing a growing watermelon seed or having robot parts but instead I’m going to tell you the actual truth, which likely outshines anything that I could fabricate:

Summed up, the truth is that my body apparently has a tendency to grow teeth and other things where they don’t belong.

(It’s probably not exactly what you’re thinking but it’s also not that far off.)

Good night!

2013-03-03 13 notes

Thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, undergoing surgery is a surreal experience. You fall asleep staring at the blurred ceiling of the operating room, surrounded by doctors and robots and doctor robots. You dream, maybe. You awake to the sound of the anesthesiologist cooing your name over and over, reminding you that you’re still alive. (You admit to yourself that you had a fear, however small, that the operating room ceiling would be the last thing you’d ever see.) Chunks of what was in your body are missing, but you don’t know for sure which ones until someone tells you that they took out the bad parts and left the good ones. The doctor comes by and says reassuring words and you try to look at where her eyes are but you aren’t sure because you’re not wearing glasses. The nurse gives you graham crackers and apple juice and it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You get poked with more needles but you don’t care. You hear an old man beg for morphine in the recovery room and you feel lucky that you’re dressing yourself, however slowly, and heading out the door.

Your body has the memory of the experience, but you don’t.

You sleep and eat for a week and you’re okay.

To health and happiness!