Hello, I want you.
Sadly, since you are $258, I will never have you. Ah, life.
I'm watching tonight's new episode of SVU and when Finn asks to see a stripper's fingernails, she holds them out and says "ballet slipper with a top coat of marshmallow."
Which, hey, is the exact shade combination that the faux-Vogue-employed daughter of a prominent New York restaurateur chirps is "the perfect pink!" before flitting off into secondary characterland in the book version of The Devil Wears Prada.
So why do these facts live in my brain? Couldn't tell you. But that kind of popcult ephemera-connection ability is why they pay me the big bucks, people.
Two things I really love: Showtunes and the internet.
A third thing I really love: Rewriting showtunes in my head so that they are about the internet.
For example, a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang ditty about the joys of single fatherhood very easily is convertible to a paean to a certain behemothic video uploading site:
Someone to care for — to be there for — I have YouTube!
This has been stuck in my head for nigh on two months now. Time to share it with the rest of the world.
(I won't even get into my intense baritone rendition of "Old Man Twitter.")
My friend had a dream last night in which someone said "Tell me about leaving people," and I replied with "About leaving. Well, you can buy the hippest glasses you want, but if you spend your life hiding in London nobody will ever see them."
That, of course, is why I don't live in London — so everyone can see my super-hip glasses. (Want to bask in their glory? They're up there at the top of the page.)