M! Have a Merry, Merry Christmas! Give Bru lots of Christmas kisses from me - and post a ton more photos because I die for them! Have a great holiday!!!!!! xox - A
And a very merry Christmas to you, B, and Moose! Loving the Moose pictures, too, obvi! Hope all is well on the other coast. Stay warm. I’ll be thinking of you while I catch some sun tomorrow. Okay, so it’s not that warm here, but it’s so Californian of me to try to rub it in. Either way, much love from Bru and me!
Apparently it IS more likely something will happen ON THE WAY to the airport...
…oh the irony. I was going to trade in my car on SUNDAY for a brand new car. My dad told me to wait a day or two.
Moral of the story: When you’re driving your best friend to the airport, boppin away to Taylor Swift, going a normal speed in your own lane, watch out for HUMMERS FROM COMPTON who decide your lane looks way more fun. Oh and to the third guy in the Tahoe from Florida who decided to speed off? You’re so fucked. Enjoy that hit and run charge!
“I’m disillusioned by the people who are disillusioned by Obama, quite honestly, I am. Democrats eat their own. Democrats find singular issues and go, ‘Well, I didn’t get everything I wanted.’ I’m a firm believer in sticking by and sticking up for the people whom you’ve elected. If he was a Republican running, because Republicans are better at this, they’d be selling him as the guy who stopped 400,000 jobs a month from leaving the country. They’d be selling him as the guy who saved the auto-industry. If they had the beliefs, they’d be selling him as the guy who got rid of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,’ who got Osama bin Laden. You could be selling this as a very successful three years.”—
If I’m LA, and I need to overnight something to Orange Country, which is approximately a one hour drive, why in God’s name would you make a pit stop in Tenn-e—a mother f’ing—sse? To my sister who is currently phoneless and unable to connect with the outside world, your package is on its way. Le sigh.
"Certain moments of living in the city will always stick out to you…These memories might seem insignificant but they were all moments when you looked around the city and felt like you were a part of it all. When you leave the city, you probably won’t come back. Eventually your life in New York will seem so far away and sometimes you’ll even wonder if it really happened. Don’t worry. It did."
This slays me. Eight years. It happened, right? I know it did. It was spectacular.
A good problem to have, but nevertheless a problem.
I’ve unintentionally lost weight recently. WIN.
I need a new wardrobe. FAIL.
Today I threw on a pair of skinny jeans I used to wear at least once a week. But now? All sorts of offensive.
To give you a visual, I’m rocking a serious pair of poopy pants crossed with mom-butt.
A coworker tried to tell me I should just call them boyfriend jeans. Except they started out as skinny jeans. No pair of boyfriend jeans should ever taper at the bottom. They are no-parts “boyfriend” and ALL parts “relaxed, narrow, 1995 gone awry.”
Terrifying. But also, this gives so much clarity for those who have followed this story for the last few years. (Freakshow ME). I have always wondered, did the passengers have any idea? Did they know they were falling out of the sky? Was it a terrible last few minutes? Was it indeed, a complete and utter nightmare?
And though there in severe turbulence, less than 2 minutes before the crash, the pilots still didn’t know they had decended over 20,000 feet.
"The men briefly discuss, incredibly, whether they are in fact climbing or descending, before agreeing that they are indeed descending. As the plane approaches 10,000 feet, Robert tries to take back the controls, and pushes forward on the stick, but the plane is in "dual input" mode, and so the system averages his inputs with those of Bonin, who continues to pull back. The nose remains high."
Which means that hopefully, they did not actually feel they were rapidly plunging into the ocean. With the nose up, I hope it was some sort of illusion. Since it was late at night, I hope most of them were sleeping. And before they even had a chance to react, it was over. This is still a horrifying accident, but to some degree, understanding what went wrong makes me feel slightly (just SLIGHTLY) better.
The scene: Mexico. Circa 2006. On a private beach our friend, Becca, hooked up while the other 30,000 spring breakers partied at the pool. We win. Actually, everyone else won. I managed to get Montezuma’s Revenge the very.first.night from some funky chicken. I was a Mex-i-can’t.
But these two above 2/9ths of my girls. Almost 10 years of friendship. We met nearly the first week of freshmen year at NYU. JMad (left) wore a pink puffy jacket which for reasons that shant be discussed here, became a great source of comfort during some dark times. Like if you’re hypothetically locked in a basement, blindfolded for a weekend. Kyra wore some awesome white frosted lip-gloss. Wet-n-wild. Timeless. And now, they both live in NYC. Lame. But for various reasons, they both decided to come visit this week. I’m recruiting hard. They don’t know it, but while they sleep there is a tape recorder whispering sweet nothings about moving west. Becky—if you’re reading this—you shut your trap. The west beckons!
So while they are snuggling in my bed, I’m at work. But I get to come home to them. And we’ll wine and whine and discuss old times and new times and just be us. Which is my very favorite.