via joeyjoseph I want to have sex in this. Can you imagine all the possibilities?!? It’s the size of my whole apartment and costs eleven thousand dollars, but still. The possibilities.

via joeyjoseph

I want to have sex in this. Can you imagine all the possibilities?!?

It’s the size of my whole apartment and costs eleven thousand dollars, but still. The possibilities.

via imperiousrex Illustrations by Brano Hlavac |

via imperiousrex

Illustrations by Brano Hlavac |

This was my lunch. Should be featured on ThisIsWhyYou’reNot Fat.com Thanks to my good friend Art, who knows how to take a few random ingredients in the fridge and turn them into something delicious. sprouted organic bread, toasted olive tapenade spread organic red leaf lettuce organic butter lettuce organic fat juicy and amazingly awesome tomato organic sauerkraut organic green bell pepper grilled firm tofu marinated in nutritional yeast and soy sauce sharp cheddar cheese mashed avocado sprouted organic bread, toasted sprinkled with (more) nutritional yeast Bonus: he grew all the veggies himself. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

This was my lunch. Should be featured on ThisIsWhyYou’reNot Fat.com

Thanks to my good friend Art, who knows how to take a few random ingredients in the fridge and turn them into something delicious.

sprouted organic bread, toasted

olive tapenade spread

organic red leaf lettuce

organic butter lettuce

organic fat juicy and amazingly awesome tomato

organic sauerkraut

organic green bell pepper

grilled firm tofu marinated in nutritional yeast and soy sauce

sharp cheddar cheese

mashed avocado

sprouted organic bread, toasted

sprinkled with (more) nutritional yeast

Bonus: he grew all the veggies himself.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

being in a serious relationship with someone doesn't mean you should ever stop doing the little things that counted so much in the beginning. romance holds even more importance as time goes on.
Harvest

This is what your fingertips will look like after trimming marijuana for sixteen hours.

I had washed my thumb and forefinger just before this was taken because I didn’t want to get my camera full of sticky hash. It’s so thick it just peeled right off. Gloves (as seen below) come in handy if you don’t want to spend the whole day in a very deep level of stonage.

I’m working on a farm this week. It’s quite an experience in many ways; I’m learning all about the growth, maintenance, cloning, harvesting, cultivating, trimming, packaging, and distribution of an herb I seldom partake in. (This is California, so I can say all this, with the truthful disclaimer that I do in fact have a license to do this work thanks to our decriminalization laws here regarding growth for medicinal purposes.)

The best part of it all is the community and shared responsibilities of the house and how all the workers interact as friends. From sunrise to 2:00am we work together, with Pandora going strong, sometimes a movie playing in the background, sometimes silence. The food is all grown here too, or grown locally, and the feasts we have are so good —and good for you— that I don’t feel the need to stuff my face with In n’ Out burgers or peanut butter cookies as I usually desire. (It also helps that the closest town is over thirty miles away.) Hardly anyone actually smokes, with the exception of our oldest worker who is 66 years old; she just can’t seem to get enough.

We take turns feeding and cleaning and contributing in various ways and we usually have a couple hours at the end of every night to just laugh, standing in the kitchen talking about our families, where we’ve traveled, our boyfriends and girlfriends back home; once in the late morning we will all run around in the freezing cold forest to recharge.

Just another life experience I wanted to have.

All in a day’s work.

I photographed my breakfast this morning, which was this. Many of them. I couldn’t stop making toasty melty marshmallows. Camping trips make me fall in love with the kinds of junk food I tend to forget exist.

I photographed my breakfast this morning, which was this. Many of them. I couldn’t stop making toasty melty marshmallows. Camping trips make me fall in love with the kinds of junk food I tend to forget exist.

Drew surprised me with tickets to Ray LaMontagne tonight. It was a solo acoustic show and despite the 3,500 capacity sold-out Moscone concert hall, it was a very intimate and lovely performance. His music is very powerful for me and I had never heard him live before (although I did have lunch in his kitchen once.) All The Wild Horses as his encore left me with a face full of fresh tears. That man is a god with a voice like that and easy on the eyes, too.

Drew surprised me with tickets to Ray LaMontagne tonight. It was a solo acoustic show and despite the 3,500 capacity sold-out Moscone concert hall, it was a very intimate and lovely performance. His music is very powerful for me and I had never heard him live before (although I did have lunch in his kitchen once.)

All The Wild Horses as his encore left me with a face full of fresh tears. That man is a god with a voice like that and easy on the eyes, too.

ragbag: whiskey tango foxtrot for kicks: the next time that you are making reservations over the phone with a maître d’, why not use the unhelpful phonetic alphabet to spell your name? as my former accordion instructor points out, “efficiency is the enemy of serendipity.”

ragbag:

whiskey tango foxtrot

for kicks: the next time that you are making reservations over the phone with a maître d’, why not use the unhelpful phonetic alphabet to spell your name? as my former accordion instructor points out, “efficiency is the enemy of serendipity.”

My Gammy, who turns 90 years old today, is the classiest and most vibrant woman I know. Born in Maine in 1919, she was a World War II nurse in Germany, married my grandfather, became a professional tennis player in Palm Beach Florida, birthed nine children, continued working as a nurse, started a business baking and selling rum cakes, and has enjoyed a life full of travel, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, fast cars, and adventure. She is a connoisseur of ice cream and a lady of fashion and has more hats than I do. She won’t leave the house without her makeup or her best shoes, even if she’s just going to the grocery store. She still goes to Mass every Sunday and she still stays up ‘til midnight playing cards and drinking Bloody Marys and she still makes me laugh more than anyone ever has. Here’s to you, Gammy.

My Gammy, who turns 90 years old today, is the classiest and most vibrant woman I know. Born in Maine in 1919, she was a World War II nurse in Germany, married my grandfather, became a professional tennis player in Palm Beach Florida, birthed nine children, continued working as a nurse, started a business baking and selling rum cakes, and has enjoyed a life full of travel, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, fast cars, and adventure. She is a connoisseur of ice cream and a lady of fashion and has more hats than I do. She won’t leave the house without her makeup or her best shoes, even if she’s just going to the grocery store. She still goes to Mass every Sunday and she still stays up ‘til midnight playing cards and drinking Bloody Marys and she still makes me laugh more than anyone ever has.

Here’s to you, Gammy.

Cook to Bang: Recipes to get you laid.
fuckyeahoctopi: The Octopus Who Loves His Mr Potato Head “Louis, a giant Pacific octopus at the Blue Reef Aquarium in Cornwall, England, is so attached to his Mr Potato Head toy that he turns aggressive when aquarium staff try to remove it from his tank. “The giant Pacific octopus was given the toy for Christmas and has even learned to dig out food hidden in the secret box at the back of it.” via Metro.co.uk My nephew called me last week. The conversation went something like this: “Megan. I got… a POTATO HEEEEAAAAAD!” “You DID?! A MISTER Potato Head?” “Yessssssssss.” “All riiiight, buddy! That’s awesome!” “You come over play wit’ me an’… an’… Mis— Mist—, um, Potato Head?” :( And then I felt like a really bad aunt for being three thousand miles away.

fuckyeahoctopi:

The Octopus Who Loves His Mr Potato Head

“Louis, a giant Pacific octopus at the Blue Reef Aquarium in Cornwall, England, is so attached to his Mr Potato Head toy that he turns aggressive when aquarium staff try to remove it from his tank.

“The giant Pacific octopus was given the toy for Christmas and has even learned to dig out food hidden in the secret box at the back of it.”

via Metro.co.uk

My nephew called me last week. The conversation went something like this:

“Megan. I got… a POTATO HEEEEAAAAAD!”

“You DID?! A MISTER Potato Head?”

“Yessssssssss.”

“All riiiight, buddy! That’s awesome!”

“You come over play wit’ me an’… an’… Mis— Mist—, um, Potato Head?”

:(

And then I felt like a really bad aunt for being three thousand miles away.

I have the most impressive/gluttonous collection of vintage clothing ever. These are just the dresses. And there are four of them on each hanger. Maybe I should open a boutique.

I have the most impressive/gluttonous collection of vintage clothing ever.

These are just the dresses.

And there are four of them on each hanger.

Maybe I should open a boutique.

My adorable nephew is so. very. adorable.

My adorable nephew is so. very. adorable.

"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ. I consider western Christianity in its practical working a negation of Christ’s Christianity."
— Ghandi
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