The amount of good food I’ve eaten in the last 24 hours is a smidgen insane.
Filet mignon with bearnaise sauce + bacon-wrapped apricots + Six Points at The Smith at midnight. Eggs benedict with canadian bacon pork chops + potato hash + blood orange mimosas at Harry’s when we finally drag ourselves from bed. Christ almighty.
Overheard:Wealthy Man on the phone dragging designer luggage
-I hope you are really happy now. I can’t wait till the next time I see you.
-I am going to kill you, I hope you know that.
-Your things? manic laughter.
-When I get home, I am going to break your fucking tivo, I am going to rip apart your sofa and I am going to throw those whore shoes of yours into the hudson. Your things?
Are Nothing. Nothing (x 3)
-Watch me.
All spoken in a raised whining scream voice. followed him 3 blocks out of my way to listen.
I love New York.
back-home smells
Why does the scent of lit matches call to mind the general scent of humid summer nights in northeast Ohio? Strike the matchbook and I’m suddenly reminded of swinging and bonfires.
That thing where
The stuff that used to feel good kinda feels crummy, and the stuff that felt crummy feels pretty good now. I wish there was a word for that.
BOBBY NEWPORT
(Source: thatwrinklesmybrain, via ninic)
analyzing my own laziness.
The last four shows I’ve marathoned (read: let take over my life) have begun with a ‘p’ (Party Down, Portlandia, Parenthood, Parks and Recreation). Before that, no discernible pattern (Community, Breaking Bad, United States of Tara, True Blood, The L Word, The Office). Hmm.
Welp, onto Louie and Friday Night Lights.
Had a restful day with my lover and my friends. It’s at the end of a day like today that I sometimes say a word to the Lord, thanking him for what I have. I like to let him know that I’m trying to polish up the dark spots that creep in - the ugly thoughts that have no proper place in a full life. I am not delusional, and I am not pious; I know that self-improvement comes from making conscious changes. But there’s something about whispering, in my mind, to that thing up there; something about holding myself to it. Then I close the door to my bedroom, get under the covers, and listen to this song on repeat.
“Every place I go I take another place with me.” That’s the beauty of this whole thing, isn’t it?
Mitt Romney will NOT REST until you eat a pastry. Here’s an excerpt of a Phil Rucker’s pool report from a flight between Charleston and Greenville Friday:
Before take off, Mitt Romney walked down the aisle with a large box of assorted pastries from Panera Bread to pass out to the passengers (including the governors and press).
What follows is a transcript of his exchanges.
“Come on, Kasie, dig in,” Romney said to Kasie Hunt of the Associated Press. “Pain au chocolat. Smart move.”
“Ashley?” Romney said to Ashley Parker of The New York Times.
“Can you just grab me something?” Parker asked, turning to her seatmate, Kasie Hunt, who was holding the tongs poised over the basket.
“What do you want though?” Romney asked.
“Um…” Parker said. “The popover thing?”
“The popovers?” Romney asked.
“Thank you very much,” Parker said.
“Sticky bun?” Romney asked other reporters. “There you go.”
“Snack time! Nothing? Just, you know, use your fingers,” Romney said, struggling with the big box. “The heck with this. There you go.”
“Come on, Emily, dig in here,” Romney said to Emily Friedman of ABC News. “Fingers are fine. We’re among friends.”
“Sarah, you want one? What do you want?” Romney said to Sarah Boxer of CBS News.
“I don’t know,” Boxer said. “What’s in there?”
“We’re gonna solve problem one here by getting rid of these ridiculous things here,” Romney said, handing two pairs of black plastic tongs to the flight attendant behind him.
“Rucker, come on Rucker,” Romney said to Philip Rucker of The Washington Post. “Oh, he makes a good move for the cheese. Take two.”
“No, no, no,” Rucker said.
“Look it, there’s so much in here,” Romney said. “Come in, take more. No, take more than one. Take two, take two, Ruck-man. Come on.”
“Where’d you get it?” Matt Viser of The Boston Globe asked Romney, referring to the pastries box.
“We found it on the floor up there,” Romney said.
“Do you want another one?” Romney asked Sara Murray of The Wall Street Journal.
“No, I’m good, but thank you,” Murray said.
“Who wants some more of these?” Romney said. “Look at this. This is good stuff. This is from Panera. Very high-end.”
“Pain au chocolat in there,” Romney continued. “Look at the sticky buns. Those are the best.”
“Hey, Rucker, there’s still some more of those cheese cake babies in here,” Romney continued. “No? You only had one of these. Come on, Ashley.”
“Alright,” Romney said. “We’ve got to get seated.”“Look at the sticky buns. Those are the best”—amazing. (Photo: Charles Dharapak/AP)
reading this made me feel more uncomfortable than the bathroom door handle jiggling when you’re doing #2.
(via ericazucco)
Pazz + Jop Ballot
It’s an extra thrill to see the results of this year’s Village Voice Pazz & Jop Critics Poll because for the first time, I scrolled through the list of voting music critics and saw friends’ names. It was also the first year I voted.
That said, I’m disappointed that Tune-Yards nabbed the top album spot. I can’t deal with her voice enough to even begin to like “whokill.”
Also? If you’re looking for proof that the music critic rock-dad archetype possesses a bias in favor of Wilco, look no further. I’m a Tweedy devotee, but sheesh people… “The Whole Love” is pretty forgettable.
AND THEY SAID WE’D MAKE BON IVER #1!!! Not even close.
David Bowie once thought Satan was living in his indoor swimming pool. He also cohabited with Iggy Pop in West Berlin in 1976, during which time he became consumed with Third Reich history and Nazi mythology. Bowie, like many rock stars before and many more to come, struggled with drugs and faced somewhat of an identity crisis in attempts to reinvent his sound and eclipse the popularity of his alter-ego Ziggy Stardust…
This is a new Rolling Stone cover story because…?
F. Scott Fitzgerald
—
Being the former kind of individual continues to be incredibly frustrating to me.
(Source: misswallflower, via rosesyhandcuffs)

