fucking get on the train, people. Even if you’ve never been on the subway...– A forgotten rant. On trains. (NYC)
On why I love Jason. Reason #infinity
(from an old email)
me: if I ever try to pursue anything ever again, if I make it through this semester without being locked up in a white box, remind me never to try for anything again. Just shut it down, I'm not going to be a ninja or a pirate or a kung fu superstar or James Franco's wife or girlfriend or a designer or a writer or an artist or a filmmaker, I will never create anything beautiful or good, I am only suited for Cheetos and fried chicken and the inevitable prospect of being cut off my couch. That is what I am happy with. That is what I can do.
Jason: I will file all of this away for future use, then.
me: You're filing this in the file marked "crazy," aren't you?
Jason: No, that one's ALL FULL UP.
A Restaurant Designer's Tour of the Best Doors in... →
I don’t care what you think about me. I don’t think about you at all.– Coco Chanel (via wildhorsescouldntdragmeaway)
Ann Marie: Just spent $100 on wrinkle cream that will do absolutely nothing and $15 on herbal supplement that's supposed to help with spider veins.
Ann Marie: I told the guy behind the counter it was for my dad. OMG, I'm so embarrassed.
Me: OMG. Tell me if it works and I'll get it for "my mom".
Ann Marie: I know. I said "dad". I froze. What a gigantic loser. Cracking up.
Sometimes, when I don’t know what to do, it’s best to think of Jill’s advice and think of everything in terms of how it would look in a deposition.