(Source: babygoatsandfriends, via particleb0red)
Woke up with a bloody fingernail this morning, which is interesting for two reasons:
1) I remember most of last night, we had rum old fashions at La Bodega 47 on Lenox then walked in perfect Fall weather to the local gay dive bar, where we kiki’d until late
2) Jerel literally put me in a cab at the end of the night, told the driver where to take me, and I still fell down somewhere on the way
I turn into the Scarecrow from Oz when I’m drunk for some reason. So annoying.
Brunch is hard, you guys.
Will I be something?
Am I something?
And the answer comes:
You already are.
You always were.
And you still have time to be. — Anis Mojgani (via elauxe)
Optimistic existentialism. Who knew?
(Source: happypeopledodrugs, via fuckyeahexistentialism)
I like to have a Martini, two at the very most; three, I’m under the table, four I’m under my host! — Dorothy Parker is relevant tonight. And every night, really.
My Twitter experience, in one image.
The downside is that it’s impossible to discreetly order a second sake at lunch because they all start yelling and make a big show out of giving it to you.
The sake is dipped out of this giant barrel and also served via wooden paddle. I love the theatrical rituals of robatayaki.
Grilled Japanese eggplant, grilled elephant garlic and some really punchy sake in a wooden box. All delivered from behind the bar with a long wooden paddle and much hullabaloo.