Mad props to you Vanity Fair…
For this chart of all of Jay-Z’s name-dropped products. From cars to designers, these are the 15 brands mentioned most over the span of his career. This got me thinking, what would be on my most name-dropped list? I think Tim Riggins and nail polish might be tied for first place…
I'm not sure that the bad lip reading of NFL players will ever be topped, but this dubbing of Game of Thrones with alternative dialogue is pretty great too.
(via devour)
Tags: Game of Thrones remix video
Mod Hair Ken doll with combable hair, beard, sideburns and choice of 2 moustaches, 1972.
Breaking news: COS is coming to NYC!
Yes, as in New York City, USA. Finally. The wait is over.
COS is a go-to for simple, chic pieces. We no longer have to beg our friends abroad to bring back some of their perfect t-shirts or easy dresses for us. The only downside… now we don’t get to say, “Oh this skirt? Yeah, it’s from COS. It’s in Europe…”
But hey, losing that moment of self-satisfaction is a price we (and our closets) are willing to take!
Happy shopping!
The Studio
PS: The store opens in Soho in the spring!
I loathe her because she does not take me seriously. She tries really hard to be funny. But she does not make me laugh. I do not think she is funny. I think she is annoying. I think she needs to take her head out of my belly and stop giggling and saying I am cute. I am not cute. I am a warrior.
I cannot so much as stretch my arms without her thinking I am a marvel cat. I am not a marvel cat. I am a regular cat. When she stretches before her jogs, I do not think anything more of her. I do not think she is special or interesting. All I am thinking when she stretches is that I want her to leave for the jog. One time she fell while she was jogging. She came back bloody. Her elbow was bloody, her hand was bloody and her knee was bloody. She had gravel stuck in her skin. She cannot manage to jog on the two feet she’s been using for over twenty years. She is apparently still getting used to them.
People seem to like her, but I don’t know why. She doesn’t have good attributes. In her iTunes library she has ABBA, Randy Travis, The Muppets and Sean Kingston and she listens to them regularly. (She doesn’t like people to know that, but I’ve released the information!) She plays air drums. Not air guitar like normal people, but air drums. No one cares about drummers so I do not understand the reasoning behind this fantasy. She is disgusting. Her hair clogs the drains. I do not understand how she is not bald. There is enough hair in the drains of her bathroom to make toupees for middle-aged men. She also likes to put melodramatic music on and slowly turn her head, pretending she is in the opening credits of a dramedy television show starring herself and her wacky, sugary friends. Again, I do not understand this fantasy. She is not an actress, so this will never come true. She is a writer. She should fantasize herself with greasy hair and pimples on her face, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and pajama shorts, writing at a computer in her apartment for hours, with a bowl of stir-fry on the floor and Swedish fish scattered everywhere. That is what a writer has to look forward to at the very best.
She cannot dance. When she tries to dance it looks like a deer trying to walk for the first time. She looks like a chubby mermaid who’s being denied the water she needs to move gracefully. When she dances, I wonder if she hears the same music that is playing for everyone else. Even I, as a cat, know she is rhythmically misunderstood.
She is happy most of the time but sometimes she cries. I do not understand this human feature. This wetness that drops from the eyeballs when a human is in pain. I try to sniff the tear to collect data, and she cries more because she thinks I am being caring. I am not being caring. I want a test sample. She hugs me close and I let her because it gets me closer to the tears. I sniff them. They do not smell. I am losing interest.
I am diabetic. She can deal with that. It is her responsibility, as the person who rescued me and gave me food, water and love out of the kindness of her heart. She owes me the $1,300 that has totaled my vet bills. She owes me the $48 prescription food that lasts for only 24 days. She owes me the $160 insulin and $20 syringes that she has to order online from totaldiabetessupply.com, a website of which she is now a member. She owes me all of this, and more. She says she is a writer. She can write about it.
She has switched me to diabetes food. If I had claws like a Lion or teeth like a Great White Shark I would use them on her for switching me to this food. That is why Bengal Tigers eat hyenas and tasty gazelles and I eat Hills Prescription Weight Loss Formula for Diabetic Cats. Because they are the kings of the animal kingdom, and I am a little domestic bitch.
She is always taking pictures of me. I try to look miserable in all of them, so her friends will not think I enjoy her company or love her. She likes to put me in funny clothes or positions, then upload them to her Facebook or her Instagram along with a snarky comment. I do not like that I have no say in this. I have no control over how the people of the internet see me. This makes me hate her more. The angrier I look, the funnier she seems to think the picture is. I cannot win.
I am trapped in this apartment with a cat whom she calls Cheese. Cheese has the intelligence of a cinder block. He is overly grateful and cuddles with her because he loves her, not because he wants food. I do not understand this. Cheese is hyper and likes to explore. I want him to explore the outside. I want him to explore his way to the mountains. His color annoys me. He is orange. Orange is too bright for my eyes.
Her friends say I am fat. I think they are fat.
I do not like going in her moving car for many reasons. I do not like not knowing our destination. Sometimes we are going five minutes down the road to the vet. Other times I am stuck in the car for three hours and I end up at her mother’s house with another cat and a dog I want to guide into a bear trap. One time, she put me in the car and gave me medicine and then everything went dark. Three days later I woke up in California. You just never know. Every time I get in the moving car, I do not know where I will end up. She puts me in a black cage so I do not escape. I do not blame her for this because if I was not in the cage, I would indeed escape. I want to jump out the window like a fugitive escaping the jail cells that have confined him since 2007. She is the prison warden preventing me from a better life. I want to feel the wind in my fur. On the trip to her mother’s, I meow for the whole three hours. We finally get there. Her mom is like her, except 20 years later.
This gives me no hope. Her mother babies me. This I enjoy.
However, whilst riding in the moving car, I realize that if I do escape, I will die. I will starve, or I will go into diabetic shock, or I will get run over by a vehicle. If I befriended a motley crew of alley cats, they’d see me as a threat since I am so well-spoken and portly. They would obviously kill me for their own nourishment.
I suppose I will stay here, with her. After all, she is my bitch.
You can read more from Emily Messina on her blog.
The post An Open Letter From My Cat appeared first on HelloGiggles.
Dumbo’s LAND Gallery opens a special exhibition at Ace Hotel New York October 3-28, celebrating art by adults with developmental disabilities. Here, a vertical triptych by Michael Pellew Jr.
In the 1980s, Charles Ehret developed an antidote to jet lag called The Argonne Anti-Jet-Lag-Diet.
After experimenting on protozoa, rats, and his eight children, Ehret recommended that the international traveler, in the several days before his flight, alternate days of feasting with days of very light eating. Come the flight, the traveler would nibble sparsely until eating a big breakfast at about 7:30 a.m. in his new time zone -- no matter that it was still 1:30 a.m. in the old time zone or that the airline wasn't serving breakfast until 10:00 a.m. His reward would be little or no jet lag.
The diet was adopted by US government agencies and other groups as well as Ronald Reagan, but it difficult to stick to. Recently, researchers in Boston have devised a simpler anti-jet lag remedy:
The international traveler, they counsel, can avoid jet lag by simply not eating for twelve to sixteen hours before breakfast time in the new time zone-at which point, as in Ehret's diet, he should break his fast. Since most of us go twelve to sixteen hours between dinner and breakfast anyway, the abstention is a small hardship.
According to the Harvard team, the fast works because our bodies have, in addition to our circadian clock, a second clock that might be thought of as a food clock or, perhaps better, a master clock. When food is scarce, this master clock suspends the circadian clock and commands the body to sleep much less than normally. Only after the body starts eating again does the master clock switch the circadian clock back on.
Totally trying this the next time I have to travel, although the Advil PM/melatonin combination my doctor suggested worked really well for me on my trip to New Zealand. (via @genmon)
Tags: flying how to medicine science travelThe Art of the Title chats with the excellent Jessica Hische about the lettering and type design she did for Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom.
To me, that was really fun because if you think about New England in the '60s... it's not like most places would be staying on top of the most current trends in type, using typefaces that were released that very year. So, using something from the '40s made sense to me. If you think about a small, conservative New England town, lord knows all the printers and designers in town are probably still using type from years ago. I think when people think about historical type references, they often don't think about that. You should be reaching from that time period to 15 - 20 years earlier and then you'll be getting stuff that's quote-unquote "current."
And she's releasing the typeface commercially so everyone can use it! Yay!
Tags: design Jessica Hische Moonrise Kingdom movies typography Wes Anderson
I dispensed a large dab of gouache onto my watercolor paper, then a small dash of another color to create a mix. I was distracted for a minute (was going to spread these colors together to create a background), maybe a phone call, so I mindlessly began dragging my pencil through the colors, slowly swirling them onto each other. Soon enough, I had created a teeny tiny face within this puddle of color! The beginning of the paint puddle faces.
Anyone looking for a TV show to marathon-watch this summer? As Kottke wrote, the Writers Guild of America just published their list of the 101 best written TV series, and it's a great reminder of some oldies but goodies. Here are the first thirty:
P.S. Seinfeld posters and funny clips. 
LanakellerI would totally go to this.
A summer camp exclusively for adults, Camp Grounded is a unique and off-grid experience that has been designed to provide respite from the daily grind.
Created by Digital Detox, an Oakland-based organization that promotes well-being and balance for modern day urbanites, Camp Grounded will ask guests to “trade in computers, cell phones, Instagrams, clocks, schedules and work-jargon for a weekend of pure unadulterated fun.”
Situated in one of the many Redwood parks along the Californian coast, guests will inhabit a real 1970s boy scout camp for four days in June, somewhat reminiscent of the camp featured in Wes Anderson’s latest release Moonrise Kingdom, as shown above. In our Megatrends forecast for S/S 14, Real, we explore and take inspiration from the nostalgic exuberance of the 1970s.
Camp Grounded is limited to 200 spaces for its inaugural edition and will take place in Anderson Valley, California from June 14th-17th this summer. Click here to register your place. – Samantha Fox
