This photo has nothing to do with anything other than that it's baby-related, and the easiest DIY in the world (just a dreamcatcher, basically, except turned on its side), and I totally wish I had made one for our daughter's crib (not making one at this particular point in time; I have the feeling that delicate webs dripping with feathers might not travel especially well, and we have some serious traveling happening this summer).
Anyway, babies.
Spring!
Currently test-running David Kind's new personalized eyeglasses styling service - you choose three pairs, a personal stylist chooses three more that he or she thinks will suit you, and then all six are delivered to your door in a pretty little mirrored box so you can choose your favorite (and then you ship 'em all back and they fill your prescription in the frame of your choice).
This Spanish actress photoshopped her entire existence, thereby proving definitively that everything you see on the Internet is a lie. (via Styleite)
Yesterday I got a call from a friend - let's call her "A" - that made me angrier than I've been in a long time.
A is dating a new guy, and this new guy might be the guy; as in, the guy she wants to be with forever. (Let's call him "TG.") And yesterday she called me crying, because she found out that on the night before her first date with TG a mutual "friend" of theirs - a man whom she'd dated years and years ago - took it upon himself to tell TG not only about their past, but about all her past. In exhaustive, disgusting, disrespectful detail, with the express purpose of making her sound like she'd done nothing for the past decade except jump from man to man. He told stories about her that made her sound careless; not like the "kind of woman" TG should date. And so I suppose he had another purpose, as well: to use this "information" to shame her, and to make TG see her - a potential long-term partner - as something less than what she is.
To make her sound worthless.
Let's talk about the world "slut" for a second.
Oh hey there guys.
A couple of weeks ago my Instagram friend (by which I mean a person who I feel that I know extremely well because I follow her on Instagram, but whom I do not actually know at all) Alexis posted about a Northern Chinese restaurant she went to in Queens called Golden Palace. And in that post, she called it a "food adventure." So: restaurant googled; trip planned.
Northern Chinese, at it turns out, is a totally different thing than the Chinese food I'm used to (primarily Hunanese, Sichuanese, and Cantonese). It's not one of the "Eight Great Traditions" of Chinese cuisine, and is considered sort of less refined by Southerners (which apparently has more to do with political and economic differences between the regions than the quality of the actual food, because it's totally as interesting - and delicious - as what you find in neighboring areas).
Nothing wrong with rocking your brother's hand-me-downs (especially when you have a Superman Curl to go with them). (Shirt / Jeans / Cuddlebug)
Oh my GOD this is the CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN.
