The other day I forgot my headphones in some coat pocket and was left in mental solitary confinement for all 29 minutes of my commute. My mind started to roam to weird ass places. What does everyone think about when they’re left with just their thoughts? Here’s a glimpse.
Sometimes, 15 minutes of happiness (and carbs) can cost you $15 and it’s worth every cent (and potentially every pound).
Is Real. (Warning: encyclopedia ahead.)
It may also be Rated R, and not appropriate for creatures of all ages and thought processes. I’m also running on 5 hours of sleep infused with a severe and well-deserved hangover because I indulged in tequila festivities last night and topped them off with a visit to Leyenda and Clover Club in Brooklyn to further enhance my alcoholic tendencies and I swear the mango got me feeling like…I literally don’t know what I’m saying. But I really did have some bomb mango and mezcal situation at Clover Club.
Includes flamingos and cocktails, obviously.
Walks into Birdbath to window shop. Has a staring contest with the vegan scone; resists. Inquires about healthy options behind the counter; gets a sullen glance. Wins; proceeds with just an iced tea; knows better; thinks of Gisele. Flirts with the scone again; bats eyelashes, smirks.
Since the weekend is not around the corner at all because it’s only Tuesday, I thought it would be nice to pretend like it was Friday and get everyone hangry and motivated to survive the week. Here are some cultural activities and eats to ponder while you sip your ninth iced coffee.
-sh anything I start. Except for my Honeycup Uniquely Sharp Stone Ground Spicy Mustard (it changes lives. And eggs.) and this Chocolove Orange Peel Dark Chocolate bar. Okay, and like seven fresh ginger beer crafted cocktails with bottom shelf bourbon because somehow, Jim Beam, Bulleit and Makers all taste the same to me, so bring out whatever is lingering.
I typically don’t convey essay-like forms about a bag of chips, but I just felt like it, seeing that I became overly opinionated on a bumpy flight.
I fly JetBlue because of the sea salt popcorn and rice cake hybrid known as Popcorners. The 140-calorie shiny bag houses the perfect amount of crunch and sodium, so you feel dehydrated enough to chug a small water, while wishing you could guzzle a Moscow Mule instead. I don’t think that makes sense out loud, but it does in my head.