arthipstory

I really tried to go to 6am spin, but I hit snooze this monster was on top of me.

HOW DEPRESSING AND VAGUE IS HOPPER’S Cape Cod Evening?!

LIKE, WTF IS EVEN HAPPENING.

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?

WHAT’S IN THE GRASS??

When I realize to-do list became my to-don’t list because I choose champagne on a weeknight instead of a good night’s sleep.

Let one more person assign a deadline via Outlook or conference call today.

The Dresden Triptych was painted by Jan van Eyck in 1437, and was assumed to be part of the Giustiniani collection in the late fifteenth century (not related to my favorite art collector, Vincenzo, who owned some pretty prominent Caravaggio works. We don’t know the original donor, but since scholarship has proven that the coat of arms on the interior panels was that of the Giustiniani of Genoa family, we can go ahead and assume they were at once in possession of the work.

I mean, to be it’s like the Baroque equivalent of scratching your name into your desk in high school.

Yeah, dude, I get it, I’m just not interested in what you’re sellin’ today.

Why do people think mansplaining is acceptable? Is there an equivalent phrase for women schooling men? I hope it’s just called “being right and spreading the wealth.”

William Glacken’s At Mouquin’s gifts us the absolutely bored presence of Louise Mouquin, (the wife of the restaurant’s namesake and owner) sharing a drink with a famed restaurateur James B. Moore.

I can’t tell what detail I love more: the absolute disdain she has for this guy, or the curve of her dress into the foreground. I’ll pick disdain.

Taken right after I found out I was tagged as my man’s #wcw (minus the dog, though: mine doesn’t look nearly this disheveled).

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In all sincerity, what did dudes write in the letters that have all of Fragonard’s women falling over themselves?  I mean, forget sonnets: all I need is a grilled cheese at 11pm on a Tuesday night and I am simply head over heels.

I can guarantee you there’d be nothing paler on the beach than these legs, but MAN OH MAN, I need a vacation.

Me regarding any of the following:

1. overhearing someone else’s grueling fitness regiment (idc re: your planks),
2. listening to anyone’s stories involving bottomless brunch,
3. getting assigned any (read: a single) responsibility outside my contractual obligations,
4. hearing someone going vegan Monday, and ordering sausage pizza Wednesday,
5. seeing reckless children…anywhere.

Don’t mind me while I just tuck in my double chin to my high collar and judge.