Zoë Stagg

The world put on a quite show today. It was worth the price of admission, plus popcorn.

There was a little girl by the racks outside of the bookstore, and her mom was holding up two books for her to choose from: this one, and some other “book” I didn’t bother to look at before giving her my unsolicited-stranger-vote for Miss Nelson.

Anything to help the kids.

Anthropologie, I love you. I do! The way you’ve tailored the whole retail environment just so, with places for Amelie’s Special Cast-Off Manfriends to linger among vintagey kitchen linens and adorable embroidered whatnots.

But doghead candle thingies? Non merci, if it’s all the same to you.

(Also Dad! Note the candlesticks…where there’s a tablescape, there’s a demand…)

To my Pacific Northwestern brethren. Get thee to Burgerville and create some sweet potato fry-gnocchi of your own. “Parsley for garnish and a touch of irony.”

Is that ironic parsley or are you just happy to see me?

In other news, no, I do not know why the Special Sauce was not mentioned. It’s still a pretty awesome how-to. Also: Special Sauce. (The sauce that bears repeating.)

fancyfastfood:

Sweet Potato Gnocchi (Fancy Burgerville Sweet Potato Fries)
by Erik of Fancy Fast Food varying a recipe suggested by Heather M. of Croqzine

Ingredients:

1 Burgerville Classic Hamburger (or any burger)

1 large order of local sweet potato fries

1 side salad

1 bottle of local water

1 soft drink of your choice

organic parsley (for garnish and a touch of irony)

Here’s a vegetarian dish from the fresh, local, sustainable ingredient-committed fast food chain Burgerville from the American Pacific Northwest, that’s sure to appease any of the treehugging Fancy Fast Foodies out there.

“A pair of D-cup breasts weighs between 15 and 23 pounds.”

I find it a tiny bit hard to believe, 15 pounds is a lot. It’s the third set of weights on the rack at the gym—they’re usually not even covered in pink neoprene because they’re not meant for girls (and how would we even know without color coding?) Though I shall not argue with science that makes us all magically thin if we apply the right math.

(via katiebakes)

Five years ago…

Task Force Iron Horse, the 4th Infantry Division responsible for the capture of Saddam Hussein, returned home to Fort Hood on Thursday to a true Texas homecoming. With an estimated 50,000 family members and well-wishers on hand, the base rolled out the red carpet for its troops.

UPDATE UPDATE: @FtHoodShootings is back in operation.

Also follow Kevin Baron (@StripesBaron) from the Stars and Stripes for updates on the Ft. Hood story.

UPDATE: The account @FtHoodShooting is apparently suspended? Which is odd, because the Twitter handle was on the Statesman homepage when you clicked through. I hope it’s a traffic problem and will be up again soon.

The Austin American-Statesman set up a Twitter account just to tell this story. They’ve gained 400 followers in the past 20 minutes. It’s an interactive real-time way to get out the most updated information, 140 characters at a time (including RTs of people seemingly on the scene) — and it’s interesting to see a newspaper flexible enough to embrace this method of information distribution centered on a specific event.

I’m watching and praying for everyone.

“How much Ikea can you spot in this pic?” says Mr. Rattner.

Well? Did I get it all? This was more fun that the Hidden Pictures on page 14 of Highlights.

“Most humans can store about 20 miles’ worth of glycogen in their muscles.”

Well then, since the NYT demurred, I’ll say it: Born to Run.

This Personas thing is kind of interesting and purty! So it color codes and tabulates everything on the web associated with your name and puts it in a graph. Apparently my grand not caring about sports results in…looking like I do care.

I assure, this is not true.

Just a note to the TSA or NSA who use similar data-mining techniques to chart “patterns of interest” (according to this project), if you’re looking to use this info to put me on some sort of “watch list” please, please don’t let it be a “professional sports watch list.” Thank you.

A year ago, people were waking up, buzzing with the feeling that they’d pulled a lever (punched a hole, colored a line, swiped their finger on a grimy touch screen) and THEY’D MADE A DIFFERENCE. This voting is AWESOME, Vote or DIE you guys! A year ago, in thinking about the outcome of the election I wrote:

I hope that those who voted for the first time yesterday will continue to do so — for every election, not just the sexy ones. From Water Board to Dog Catcher, if you’ve done it once, you have no excuse to make this a one-hit wonder.

Yesterday in San Francisco we voted for an unopposed City Attorney and Treasurer and five propositions, two of which were about billboards. That’s as not sexy as it comes. You know what? TOUGH. Fifteen percent is disgraceful. Ooh maybe next time you all can go vote in Afghanistan. I bet it’s really exciting to vote there.

YES. And I would like to add a: “Please? ->” light, which could be a lot more efficient than the old “I don’t drive very often, I didn’t plan ahead and need over real bad please can I catch your eye and give you the ‘Girl driving! Aw shuckies!’” look.

Soon to be a class at your local Learning Annex.

thedailywhat:

Clever Idea of the Day: Kevin @ The Imaginary Zebra came up with a nifty idea to help reduce road rage: Install “Thanks” and “Sorry” light boxes in his car that can be switched on as necessary (e.g., when unintentionally cutting someone off, when someone lets him cut in front of them, etc.)

If you ask me, this feature should come standard.

Plenty of process shots here.

[via.]

“And tonight, we have elected a man who can bring us together, because he always puts his country first. America, he has always fought for you.”

Guess who would have said this a year ago today?

(There’s the concession speech that never was as well, with “Iron Dogs” and “Second Dudes” intact…)

I think of all the wherefores and whatnots I post on the Internet, this DailyMile is my new favorite. It’s dead easy, pretty to look at, and more accurate than writing my mileage in my paper planner. (Yes. Paper. It needs not sync nor back up. Though once I misplaced its tiny pen and I was momentarily adrift.)

My only hitches: it must have been created by men because the default setting for “Map a Route” is “make it public.” Uh, no. (Also in that vein, I know it’s supposed to have a social function but I’m sorry to say unless I already know you IRL, I shan’t be accepting you to see my routes. Nothing personal.) And it’s a little mean that when you’re done with seven days, (45 miles last week!) you have to start over ALL BLANK again.

Boo. Sisyphus called and said something about “pressure.” (Still! It’s fun runs with smiley faces as rewards.)

There’s a lot of culture out there, and while I consume a lot of it, I do show up late to a few parties. Namely this Tucker Max. I prefer to leave no fuss unturned, so I picked up a copy of his book.

With five minutes to kill before Spin, I skipped to the chapter entitled, “Tucker F***s a Fat Girl; Hilarity Ensues.” Ookay. I have a broad capacity for bro-humor and think “offended” is one of the more boring states of being, but I will dole out this pro-tip: do not choose hormonally sensitive times to try and figure out “this Tucker Max.” No good. The punchline of the chapter: Tucker beds girl who’s 40 lbs. overweight, then throws her clothes out the window so she won’t want to meet his roommates on her way out.

Thinking about this tale, I headed to the gym for a Spin class that’s usually so full you have to sign up 30 minutes early, noting that All WhooHoos Eve has nixed half of the usuals. One slender gal set up her bike directly in front of mine and class started. I’m not fun normally, but I have particularly strict behavioral rules at the gym. No hooting. And no bebopping. Slender started the dance party right away, grooving like it’s Ruby Skye with bikes, and I glanced at her calves. Dead giveaway. This is Slender’s first time at the rodeo and she ain’t gonna make it.

Zoë Stagg

Fine Folk

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The equivalent of carrying around two small turkeys...

Ft. Hood...

15.43 Percent Turnout.

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