Why have I been feeling like death recently?
Is it the humidity? Is it allergies? Is it the lack of 10 hour beauty sleep that I inexplicably require to be a functional human? Is it the lack of Georgetown Cupcakes that I've consumed this week?
Please reply soon.
You probably have one, if not all, of the following ailments:
Consumption (Dickens definition: meaning, it could any number of diseases)
Teen wolf syndrome (1985 strain: meaning, it may make you good at basketball)
Low energy and infectious diseases aside, Boston is all loveliness in the spring.
I feel like I am constantly being courted by my city.
And I like it.
Especially after months of winter's sweatpants everyday level of not caring, it feels good to have Boston putting in some effort again.
I decided that I was spending too much money on gel manicures, so I bought Essie's Chillato nail polish and painted my own fingernails for a change.
I would give myself a C-.
A generous C-.
Fine motor skills are hard.
When It Comes to Women's Fashion...
Wendy Be Like:
1. Bold lipsticks
2. High Wasted Jeans
4. Rompers of any variety
5. Boxy Dresses
6. Painted Nails
And Moses Be Like:
1. "Too clown-like."
2. "I don't know, they just look like Mom jeans."
3. "That is literally the ugliest shoe I've ever seen." (Statement later semi-revised.)
4. "It's not that you don't look good in them; it's that they don't look good on anyone"
5. "It just looks like you forgot to put pants on..."
6. "Oh, you got your nails painted?"
Spring/summertime is the perfect time for pesto. I use the Silver Palate Cookbook recipe. I just wish that my hatred for cleaning out the food processor wasn't fractionally higher than my love of pesto. But that is just my cross to bear.
My hair has reached Duggar lengths recently, despite having just gotten it trimmed (and by "just" I mean in November so...6 months ago), and I really need to get it trimmed before the wedding, but it makes me squeamish to think about going to an unfamiliar hairdresser so soon before I walk down the aisle. I have an irrational fear that I will leave the appointment looking like Billy Ray Cyrus circa 1992.
|Source (because you know you want it)|
Except less cute.
Over the past few days, my beer consumption to exercise ratio has been...off-kilter. But tomorrow! Tomorrow I will get my life together. Pinky swear.
Now to leave you with my favorite, as of yet unshared #TBT (that means Throw Back Thursday, Mom) of sorts, from back when there were still sizable snowbanks adorning every street corner.
You know, just your typical day in Harvard Square. Asking Darth Vader for directions to the closest JP Licks.