this even made dan g. chuckle

please please please click through, it is worth it

ps i made ross buy these for us

WE DID NOT HATE THEM
(tho questionable brand name?)

us at chez panisse

ordered lillet blanc, ate loads of buttery bread, a green goddess salad, split a pizzetta with potatoes and fontina with dan, ordered TWO desserts AND a glass of medeira. and i shall continue my produce-pastry-wine rampage through the upper bay area.

worth a read

interesting article by ta-nehisi coates, “i’m not black, i’m kanye,” if only for his dissection of fame (which seems like a true motherfucker).

also i’ll live and die by the beauty of airports — echoed in sasha chapin’s letter of recommendation: airport layovers:

Once you’ve made it to your gate, there is, for the moment, nothing substantial left to achieve. You are free.

real talk

straight up, i am the world’s worst bouncer. bad traits in a bouncer:

• ambivalence
• need to be liked
• dislike of confrontation
• high voice
• few muscles
• trepidatious
• somewhat prohibitionist take on heavy drinking (newly acquired)

maybe if all i was doing was truly checking IDs (how it was sold to me), it would work, but also i have to monitor drunkenness and that is straight hellscape. last saturday was a doozy, the highlight being refusing an already wasted guy with no ID from entering and subsequently being yelled at by him. fun. i basically spend my entire shift getting more and more anxious till it’s over and i go home. v. cool. my #1 coping strategy is blaming the texas alcoholic beverage commission (“i am so sorry, it’s just the law”) and making everyone scared of getting DUIs (“the cops are out, so it would be a great idea to walk home”) (literally no one is scared of DUIs).

in boring book news, i kinda hated amy poehler’s book, yes please, which i checked out from the library as an antidote to between the world and me (which is awesome but a bit challenging to read while bouncing, where i do 98% of my reading; the remaining 2% in the five minutes before drifting off to sleep). amy poehler is awesome, but this book just did not bite my chain. in fact i felt like biting ITS chain — at the end, i was like, girl, why did you even write this book? it felt like a bunch of time-filling jovial frippery frop about the good life. which is fine? but if that’s the case, imma need A LOT of juicy SNL gossip to go with it. this review kind of sums it up.