GPOYW, the watching-a-Mummers-band-perform-at-Selena-and-Jason’s-wedding-reception edition.

Mummers bands are the fucking best, you guys.  

GPOYW, the I-bought-a-pair-of-light-up-Kanye-West-glasses-from-a-random-old-man-on-1st-Avenue-this-weekend-and-I-regret-nothing* edition. 

*I do regret the Coors Light. But that’s it. 

My mom posted this old picture of me with one of my cousins on Facebook the other day.  Later, she emailed me the following: “Sorry Julia! Love you and your wings!” And by “wings,” she was referring to the massive curls that grew straight out of the side of my head until I was about 6 years old. 

Fucking moms. 

Yesterday was National Peanut Butter Day? Whatever. Today is National Irish Coffee Day! So guess what’s in my seemingly comically large coffee cup? 

Well, it’s just coffee, sans Irish. But, you know, I’m thinking about having an Irish coffee, and since I just got over a stomach bug, that’s really all that counts. 

My mom, who owns a Samsung flip phone from like 2002, asked if she could take a picture of me on my iPhone before my Thanksgiving Turkey Trot. Here is what she came up with.

I mean, OLD PEOPLE. Am I right, folks?  

Me: Do you think I need to get the sleeves on this jacket shortened? 

The Dude: Well, that depends on the look you’re going for. 

Me: Homeless person. 

The Dude: Then you’re good. 

GPOYW, the we-have-now-reached-the-point-in-the-summer-when-I-throw-an-ill-fitting-blazer-from-2002-over-a-$15-summer-dress-from-Target-and-call-it-a-professional-outfit edition. 

Subtitled: If you make me wear a suit in July, this is what you’ll get. 

On certain days, I actually dress like an associate who works at a large corporate law firm in New York.

Or, as I like to call them, laundry days. 

GPOYW, the I-have-a-massive-bruise-on-my-leg-and-I-don’t-know-where-it-came-from-but-I’ve-been-wearing-skirts-and-dresses-all-week-anyway-even-though-it-isn’t-really-appropriate-to-do-so-but-it’s-summer-so-I-don’t-give-a-shit edition. 

It was all very well to say “Drink me,” but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. “No, I’ll look first,” she said, “and see whether it’s marked ‘poison’ or not”; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them….However, this bottle was not marked “poison,” so Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast), she very soon finished it off. “What a curious feeling!” said Alice; “I must be shutting up like a telescope.”

No, I am not sitting in my office with my door closed wearing my KC Royals hat while I watch them play the Angels on my second monitor. That would be totally absurd and unprofessional and I have a lot of work to do. This photo is just a coincidence. And what are you doing on Tumblr anyway? Get back to work! 

While chopping a huge number of onions for the aforementioned giant pot of risotto for my friends on Sunday night, I remembered seeing a photo that someone had posted several months ago.  In this photo, the blog’s author wore ski goggles to prevent onion tears. I forget who this person is, but she is a genius. 

(Also, my friends may have made fun of me for wearing goggles to chop onions, but they quickly shut up as soon as they tasted my epic risotto milanese.)

Update: Tanya over at GirlandPup is the onion cutting mastermind. Totally brilliant, I say.