Tag: coolshit

talkin’ bout my generation.


Documenting the Life of 20-Somethings. The New York Times Magazine
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According to The New York Times Magazine, this is a snapshot of what it feels like to live through your 20s in the 2010s. Personally, I just skimmed Robin Henig’s accompanying article on “emerging adulthood” because it was, like, 10 electronic pages on why my generation is just a bunch of babies.  Boo!  Old news.  (Molly and I figured this out in 2005).  But the editor’s footnote f-ing rules:
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Robin Marantz Henig is a contributing writer. Her last article for the magazine was about anxiety.
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Damn, this bird knows me.
No, like, she really knows me.
Also, everyone poops.

classic rocks.

Metal Links & Turquoise Necklace. The Vamoose
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Hey, kids!  I want to tell you things.  First, these turquoise necklaces are gorgeous.  I really wish I wasn’t in my post rent paycheck empty pocket apocalypse so I could buy one in good conscience and give some love to my sternum.  Second, vamoose.  How ridiculously awesome is that word?  I mean, really.  Dads who like classic rock say vamoose!  Grandmas who drink beer say vamoose!  Counselors who wear cutoffs say vamoose!  This level of cool speak is for reals. Oh man, you know what?  It’s Friday at my nine to five.  F this S.  I say:
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V..A..M..O..O..S..E..!

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rainbow bright.


Prints. Anthony Burrill
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Fact: Thursdays are great days for life advice.
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Why?  Because Thursday is far enough from Monday that you probably won’t take it the wrong way or let it sneaky hate spiral your whole week and also close enough to Friday that instead of table-flipping your entire world, it fast passes you to the weekend with nothing but good intentions.
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Good work, Anthony.
Your timing is impeccable.

hot and heavy, pumpkin pie.


Felt Pillows. Love, California
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Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros


alabama, arkansas
i do love my ma and pa
not the way i do love you
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holy moly, me oh my
you’re the apple of my eye
girl i never loved one like you
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man o man, you’re my best friend
i scream it to the nothingness
there ain’t nothin’ that i need
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hot and heavy, pumpkin pie
chocolate candy, jesus christ
there ain’t nothin’ please me more than you
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home, let me come home
home is whenever i’m with you
home, let me come home
home is wherever i’m with you
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lalalala take me home
mama i’m coming home . . .

working from home would be sexy.


Yoga. bf / gf
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One time in college I got acutely frustrated for no reason in particular, stripped off all my clothes with the mild intention of taking a shower, and immediately started running around my apartment screaming:
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I’M NAAAAAAAAAAAAAKED!
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Sometimes,
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I wish I could do this at work.
And by sometimes, I mean
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R..I..G..H..T…..N..O..W...
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PS – I had 4 roommates and they were all home.

supermarket sweep.


Newest Supermarket Favs.
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now i’m gonna whip up a lil’ poem:
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vodka
scotch
bourbon,
hello.
hello again!
j’aime tacos.
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F..U..C..K….,….T..H..A..T..’..S….D..E..E..P…..

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ooh rexy, you’re soo . . .


Fabexy. One of Mine
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I am just now realizing that aimlessly wandering EVERY AISLE of my hometown video store as a tweenasaur (heygirlhey mishawaka hollywood video) was a totally epic waste of my money considering I always left with the same five fucking films EVERY TIME:
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1. For Love or Money
2. Drop Dead Fred
3. History of the World: Part 1
4. Blazing Saddles
5. Empire Records
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Why didn’t I see the trend and just buy them on VHS?!
I could have saved up for coolshit I really wanted!
Man, this is tragic. Like, really tragic:
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I would have been able to buy maybe a dozen novelty key chains from Claire’s or like an entire portfolio of Glamour Shots® or, ohmygodshutup, the trampoline hanging from the ceiling at Sam’s Club.  Wooaaah, Rod Stewart was sooo right:

I wish
that
I knew
what
I know
now
when
i was
younger.

please explain [explicitly].


Vintage School Map, Water On The Earth. Ladies & Gentlemen
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why are you so [explicit participial phrasing] gorgeous?
why are you so [explicit participial phrasing] typetastic?
why are you so [explicit participial phrasing] expensive?
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please,
tell me
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W…H…Y….

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super attractive coolshit.


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A few days ago I was wandering the internet (like ya do) and happened upon the website of contemporary artist Mark Mulroney. Mark received his MFA from UCSB, has exhibited with Mixed Greens, Gregory Lind Gallery, and the MCASD, and currently lives/works in Rochester.  Also, his artist bio is all types of awesome:
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Mark Mulroney was born in Dutton, New York in 1977. Since then he has attended 12 years of Catholic school, traveled to Reno, Nevada and gone to a Black Sabbath reunion concert. When Mulroney is not busy with his many internet businesses he finds time to photograph his nephews after injuries and help his neighbors remove snow from their driveways.
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Mark’s Super Attractive New Offer (whereby you mail him a self-addressed, stamped envelope and he mails you free stuff in return) was wayyy too tempting/exciting to ignore. Please feel free to be as jealous as you need of all my newly acquired coolshit.
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Super Attractive New Offer
147 Congress Avenue
Rochester NY 14611

everything got funky last night.


Sleeveless Vented Shirt in White. Kelly Bergin
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“LA-based designer Kelly Bergin puts the most beautiful spin on clothes that are fancy enough to compete in the realm of career separates. (digression: for ZZ Top fans, let it be known that it’s quite enjoyable to sing she wants career separates in place of she wanna pearl necklace.)”

– Stephanie Trong, NAAG

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PS – Just in case you were wondering, here’s what men really think about fashion.

totes.


Typographic. Alphabet Bags
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One of my absolute favorite under-the-radar lifemoments used to be when someone would call my name out loud.  In high school, just one hallway holler of  “MARSH!” and suddenly my whole head space was prepped, cleaned, and ready to host the world’s most epic sleepover.  In college, however, my friends and acquaintances seemed to prefer the rumblings of a really good full name, so my instant  mood elevator sounded a lot more like “Ehhhhhhmeeeeee MARSH!”  Nowadays though, living in a place full of strange and unfamiliar nobodies and somebodies, my goodtimes rarely originate in this way.  Of course there’s the occasional, ohmygodwhatareyoudoinghere, but actually recognizing a passing streetface and yelling his or her name out loud at full volume in the middle of the city seems to just thoroughly exceed almost everyone’s threshold for awkward terror (mine included). That’s why these made my day:
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they’re kind of like those
shoutouts from my familiar.
totes! right back at ya.