Monthly Archives: January 2017

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I can’t tell you how many stories I’ve listened to that I’m just like, “Sure, darling, but can you please pay attention to my mermaid dress and purple hair?”

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beer me.

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From left to right: Monday night, Wednesday evening, Friday at 5:02pm.

Walter Robinson’s a gem of an artist, yeah? Thanks for giving us what matters.

vib(es)

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TBH, I don’t know too much about Wayne Thiebaud outside of his incessant use of desserts and things-I-swear-off-on-Monday-and-inhale-by-Wednesday…

…but lipstick?!

WAYNE. I feel you! These are in my little mesh tote at Sephora within .3 seconds of walking in the door.

Just let me know when there’s still life paintings of all those stupid travel samples of dry shampoo that end up costing a small fortune. Then we’ll really hit the trifecta.

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The idea of work tomorrow has me like…

at the cafe

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Happy Friday, darlings.

Edouard Manet presents us with a scene I’m sure we are all familiar with after this week’s farewell address…and the impending doom that is our upcoming administration.

Scholarship wants me to tell you that Manet’s At the Cafe from 1878 is perhaps his most “suggestive work yet,” but I’m not really about that (I mean, helloooooo, have you Googled Olympia? Get real.). Instead, I’ll say that it’s probably the most obvious in its characterization of bar boredom I have seen in awhile.

All about this woman in the middle, drinking with her hand on her hip, though. Super classy.

pies pies pies

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A slice for each time I’ve groaned “Is it Friday yet?” in the last twenty minutes.

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Dear Obamas,

Thank you for believing in us, our promise, and our future more than we ever believed in it ourselves. Let your last eight years shine brighter than the burning decay that is already the President Elect’s Twitter feed…let alone his agenda.

xo.