Nom and other inside jokes
NPR. NOT NAS, NOT MACKLEMORE, AND DEFINITELY NOT ANYONE THAT HAS LIL’ OR DJ PRECEDING THEIR NAME. WHAT YOU WANT TO LISTEN TO IN THE CAR IS NO LONGER VALID.Previously on Arrested Development | NPR’s guide to the running gags from the show
This is dedication.
In a perfect world
every Thursday night for the rest of my life would be spent winning dance bets, celebrating with fruity Japanese drinks, walking the entire length of 14th street before settling in at the same place we watch every game, every time. Gummy bears and a couple of cans of cheap beer if we’re feeling lucky. I can’t say I am particularly glad to be a whole country’s width apart during this pivotal point of our creative careers. On the other hand, who knows how many more mistakes I can afford before you guys decide to ditch the smack-talkin, lots-of-nonsense amateur?
California sleeps alone tonight.
S.F. Public Library Makes Super Bowl Bet With Baltimore Library
Who thinks of this stuff? How do I get to work for them?The Superbowl is Sunday. Perhaps you’ve heard. Upping the ante on the usual mayoral-fruit-basket-bet are each cities’ public libraries: the SFPL and the Enoch Pratt Free Library.
“If the 49ers win on Sunday (which, let’s face it, they will), Pratt Library CEO Carla Hayden must recite George Sterling’s iconic San Francisco poem, “The Cool, Grey City of Love” in Baltimore’s Central Library Main Hall while wearing a 49ers jersey.
If the Ravens win (which, how adorable), the San Francisco city librarian Luis Herrera will have to recite Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” in the atrium of the San Francisco Main Library wearing a Ravens jersey” [SFist.com].
Fist bump to both libraries for this. (But only a really serious one to the Ravens. Ball so hard.)
When libraries face off against libraries. Maybe I should be invested in the Super Bowl, after all?
http://projects.nytimes.com/live-dashboard/obama-inauguration#sha=52f163def
WOWowOWOWOW! FLOTUS LOOKS P.E.R.F.E.C.T. SHE’S WEARING J. CREW PUMPS….I WEAR J. CREW PUMPS!!!
“ The shock of the twenties is how narrow that window of experience really is, and how inevitable it seems both at the time and afterward. At some point, it is late, too late, and you are standing on the sidewalk outside somewhere very loud. A wind is blowing. It’s the same cool, restless late-night breeze that blew on trampled nineteen-twenties lawns, dazed sixties streets, and anywhere young people gather. Nearby, someone who doesn’t smoke is smoking. An attractive stranger with a lightning laugh jaywalks between cars with a friend, making eye contact before scurrying inside. You’re far from home. It’s quiet. All at once, you have a thrilling sense of nowness, of the sheer potential of a verdant night with all these unmet people in it. For a long time after that, you think you’ll never lose this life, those dreams. But that was, as they say, then ”
#humancapital #internalorgan(ization)
IT IS OKAY TO TAKE ME FOR GRANTED. I know when you fall in love with someone you will completely forget about me. That hurts my feelings, but it is okay. Please try to remember to text me, if you can, if you know, I have something going on in my life, like a work promotion or something.
Sometimes I wish I was Mindy Kaling, but then my jokes would surpass yours and our relationship would be really awkward. At least we excel in the mediocre humor level that we are at. Bring it 2013. Wahoiiii to songs that give us butterflies and crying like a baby! Who knew that you and I could ever agree on the car playlist. Look at us being all civil and grown up. THIS IS 23!
NO TWO PEOPLE ARE BETTER THAN US. We fucking rock. No one can beat us.
