Love & Other Messes

I met Ann Vriend as a troubled teen obsessed with things that didn't matter. Now she's successful, beautiful, and she just came out with a new album. I love all of her stuff.

For some reason, I actually walked up to her table and told her I like whatever it was that was on at the time. Why did I ask her what the best album is? Is that even an acceptable question to direct at musicians? She pointed out her newest one and gave me a sticker that is slapped across my mirror.



Perhaps my next career move shall be a groupie?

I like that album cover. Great ass and arms.

TIL knives

If you don't have a whet stone, you can sharpen your knives on the bottom edge of a porcelain bowl.

My roommate told me she walked in on a chef at Lone Star doing this. So you know it has to be the truth.

DAMN I LOVE MUSICALS.

Let's hear it for Hunter Foster, a real broadway gem. Everything he does is great.

Cleaning up

This blog is rampant with young sar's silly young naiveté and emotions. Maybe I should indulge in positivity before belying all the work and progress I've made. That sounds good to me.

Maybe something viral? Books of Adam got hired by buzzfeed through his blog.

I'm so tired, I just want to wake up.

Mmm Bear Mountain.

Never felt so guilty

While they may not be the most momentous positions, I feel like a total ass dropping one over the other.

GUhhhhhhh. My heart.

ladies...

Aren't boobies just the breasest friends ever?

Warning: kinda gross

I'm constantly learning new things about my body. And no, this isn't a drippy dedication to the vulva.

Today I learned that before I freak out that my belly just gained 2lbs from gorging myself after a ten hour shift... I should pound back a coffee and take the inevitable shit that's been brewing up in my intestines over night. This is the 21st century people, and third wave feminists should be proud that I'm breaking gender barriers (or something) by talking about poop.

Because who doesn't want to?

Oh by the way I am working now. Thus the 10 hour shift. I bake and serve up happiness to admiring children in the form of a hefty kiddie cone.

I'm going places, man.