somewhere, in another time and place, i am not a two-hundred-year-old-fogey and darren criss is not a pretty baby child and we will be married and this will be one of our official wedding pictures.
(shut up and let me have a moment, okay?)
The first step is preheating your oven. Yes, that’s right: not your deep-fryer, not your skillet, but your oven. Because you are going to bake your crab cakes.
Somewhere along the way, lobster became the symbol of gustatory luxury. You picture your stereotypical Person Of Means sitting down to a feast—me, I always picture olde-tymey plutocrats in top hats and tails, monocled, even the women and babies, because my experience of society’s upper class begins and ends on the side of a jar of peanuts—and they are picking daintily at steaming red lobsters plated artfully atop beds of garnish greens, as stoic manservants bustle hither and yon with, oh, decanters of wine or goblets of molten gold or some shit, look, it’s not the most detailed fantasy ever, OK? Anyway there are lots of lobsters in it, and in yours, too, or just humor me for a second, for chrissakes.
There’s nothing wrong with quiche that couldn’t be fixed by just calling it goddamn Omelet Pie. Slap an off-putting, unappetizing (keesh—it sounds like an onomatopoeic rendering of a rabid vampire bat crashing through the windshield of your car to attack your neck, oh God my neck, get it off getitoffGETITOFF), exceedingly French-sounding name on an otherwise perfectly simple, straightforward foodstuff, and all of a sudden the thought of it fills people’s heads with visions of sophisticated French cooking techniques and sinks full of dirty cookware and, well, vampire bats crashing through car windshields and shit. And really, that’s too bad, because, leaving aside the name, quiche is perfectly unobjectionable, and contains no bats, unless you decide to put some bats in it, which, I mean, why would you even suggest that? You’re kind of a gross weirdo.
That Mother’s Day is little more than a gussied-up mid-spring sales event—Sweeps Week for florists—needn’t be argued at any great length. Still, buncha bullshit though it might be, the holiday nevertheless serves as an occasion to appreciate and celebrate one of the true and truly wonderful pillars of our civilization, by which of course we all implicitly understand that I am referring to the brunch reservation.
yes. all of this. especially that wonderful 82-years-and-9-months man, whom i want to adopt and keep in my pocket, because he is adorable.
“So my amazing daughter, Emma, turned 5 last month, and I had been searching everywhere for new-creative inspiration for her 5yr pictures. I noticed quite a pattern of so many young girls dressing up as beautiful Disney Princesses, no matter where I looked 95% of the “ideas” were the “How to’s” of how to dress your little girl like a Disney Princess…We chose 5 women (five amazing and strong women), as it was her 5th birthday but there are thousands of unbelievable women (and girls) who have beat the odds and fought (and still fight) for their equal rights all over the world”
- Jaime Moore, Not Just a Girl
i always feel inclined to reblog this because it is literally the best hair flip in the history of hair flips