Roy Lichtenstein really nailed my steady stream of tears scrolling through cute puppies, triple-layer cakes I can’t bake, and cute couples walking hand-in-hand before becoming swept up in a warm embrace.
Just kidding, my nails are never done, nor is my lip color! I’m charging my phone, sitting on the edge of my bed in a towel, 20 minutes behind plans, just like every other basic chick.
I need a tomato slice, or swiss and mushrooms, on this bad boy before I call it dinner, but DANG!, this looks delicious right now.
That and I’ve eaten about 4 pounds of Milky Way minis since Tuesday night…needin’ some meats!
I went to a wedding this past weekend, and I’m like, yeah, this works.
But why settle for a celebration when you can go buy a cake whenever you want?!
Me, yesterday: I’m giving up bread and cheese this week.
Me, by Friday: *elbows-deep in chicken pesto pizza*
Here’s to crushin’ goals, everyone!
There’s legitimately nothing I enjoy more than deleting unread emails. Especially the ones with those high-priority flags. Or deadlines. Those are really special to ignore.
Fragonard was commissioned by Madame Du Barry to do a series called “The Progress of Love.”
Madame Du Barry was the grand mistress of Louis XV (reminder: XV was the penultimate King of France before his grandson XVI ruined…well, everything royal…with the French Revolution).
Barry was also gifted the most sensational diamond necklace by same guy, who died before its ultimate finish, which sucks because she didn’t even get to keep it: She was of course banished by his grandson, Louis XVI.
Things don’t end up well for Barry: She ends up both banished by Louis XVI and without an incredible diamond necklace (it was a huge scandal, called simply “The Affair of the Necklace,” which…so boring).
Before all that bad news, however, is this gorgeous “The Lover Crowned.” I’m so obsessed. I can’t wait to drape a man in a goddamn laurel as if to say, “”I PHYSICALLY CROWN YOU WITH MY LOVE.”
What a pair we’d make…just don’t banish me without diamonds.
Now, I’m not one to be particularly topical on this thing (that’s more for cocktail parties and catered river cruises), but DANG!, the recent work that’s been done on this discovered Amelia Earhart photograph is fascinating!
Apparently, “Nana” was a pet name for 19th-century women of…pleasure.
My grandmother would be beside herself if she knew this.
Whatever, I’m gonna applaud this particular Nana because, hello, look at her just completely ignore this dude on the right to powder her nose.
I work similarly, in that I’ll tell my date (or friends, or family, or really anyone) I’m needing just a few minutes…but I’m still painting my nails while charging my phone on the nightstand.
arthipstory 
