Getting tripped up on my palazzo pants is a benign reminder that I’m human after all.
Human and fabulous.
(And more than a little ridiculous.)
Getting tripped up on my palazzo pants is a benign reminder that I’m human after all.
Human and fabulous.
(And more than a little ridiculous.)
It’s a good thing I never got into heroin. Or crystal meth. Or bath salts. Well, aside from their intended use. I love bath salts in a hot bath.
There are some days when Albany can’t handle the party going on below my waist.
#GoToHellPants
If you are asked what something might mean to you if such and such happened, don’t cop out and say “it would mean the world to me.†Trite nonsense is time wasted.
There’s always a chance this may change, but I honestly don’t see myself getting into a backpack anytime soon. Not even if Tom Ford is selling one.
Are we still leaving phone messages? Why is this even a thing?
I like selfies as much as, if not more than, the next person, but if your Instagram is ALL selfies from the same exact angle over and over and over again, there’s no incentive to follow.
Fancily-attired offices might find some people asking, ‘Is that Calvin Klein?’ or ‘Is that Michael Kors?’ In my office I have to ask, ‘Is that Uniform Village?’
Have you ever opened two bags of, say, Trader Joe’s sweet and savory trail mix, and convinced yourself you’ve only had one serving because you only took one serving of each? That might have just happened here.
(Those servings are ridiculous anyway. Sixteen in a small bag? Who can manage that?)
The clothing we wear is like a shell.
Here’s the trick to shells, because it’s not about how pretty or porcelain-like they appear: their most important feature is also their most overlooked. A shell is hollow. Its hollowness is what makes it a shell.
It only lives when it is filled.
When you’re slaving over the paper towel dispenser in the office restroom, really pumping and pumping the handle because you feel it’s making traction, and nothing is happening… then all of a sudden it lets loose with an exploding accordion of fresh paper towels: that’s glorious.
To be considered good, a melon must not only be sweet, but also smooth. I do not look for crunchiness in a cantaloupe or honeydew. Crunchy is for granola.