A cargo container that apparently fell from a ship washed up on the Outer Banks of North Carolina on Thursday and spilled thousands of bags of Doritos brand tortilla chips on the beach.
Jacob said that I was laughing in my sleep last night. I must have been prancing along Doritos Beach.
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Decent Proposals
- Me: We need to roast a fucking chicken soon.
- Whitney: that is the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.
- Whitney: I hope one day a man says that to me and hides a ring inside the chicken's innards. THAT is my dream man.
- Me: there should be a certain amount of blood and guts involved in any proposal. Just to make sure everyone is serious.
- Whitney: I mean, I think [redacted] would also be capable of that.
- Me: he would hide it inside of a pig's head.
- Whitney: behead a pig and then put the ring inside the skull.
- Me: and shout "SURPRISE INSIDE" just like a fleshy Cracker Jack Box.
Dear people with offspring,
Would you put this in your child’s room? I remember Maggie Mason’s story of plans to tie her son’s sea-themed nursery together with a vintage diver’s helmet turned lamp until she realized it may be nightmare inducing. Personally, I think it’s just creepy enough.
I have fond memories of a molded plastic goose lamp from my childhood bedroom, sadly extinct now due to the close of Union Products, the same company that manufactured all those iconic pink flamingos for fifty years. Something tells me my parents did not shell out $89 for my goose, yet I’m willing to for the sake of nostalgia. Not like a grown woman should feature a glowing avian light source in her boudoir.
But when has that ever stopped me?
Dear Internet, I made you a turkey-shaped cranberry Jello salad. You’re welcome. Happy Thanksgiving. Love, Drew
Normally I’d just toss this into my “inspiration” folder (a folder, I might add, that is full of photos of puppies snuggling baby monkeys, kittens wearing sailor hats, trouser jeans I’m probably never going to squeeze into, wallpaper murals, an assortment of gowns, color templates, vintage ephemera, and celebratory ideas) but I thought I’d share.
Let’s play Dream Life and throw a party so deliciously twee that there are tables numbered with stacks of books and old medicine bottles of flowers. Oh, and toss some tea cups in there for good measure. Preferably filled with gin.
I’ll be fully behind that tea party right after I finish cleaning all of those half eaten packs of melted Mentos and used tissues out of my purse.
(photo via Once Wed)
I’m well aware that life cannot always be in line with this particular photo, but I’d be happy with peonies and champagne three to eight percent of the time. Seeing as I already possess the juice glasses in the background (Ikea, three bucks) I figure I’m half way there.
So where exactly does that leave me?
(photo via youdonthavethis via Heart of Light)
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