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I love this Tumblr , featuring photos of art installations:
Installing Henry Moore at Tate Britain, 2010
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I love this Tumblr , featuring photos of art installations:
Installing Henry Moore at Tate Britain, 2010
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Dana & Kathy from San Diego brand agency Miresball got what could be considered a bit of a vague white-tops-and-dark-jeans memo, but the red shoes definitely sealed the deal. It’s all in the details, memo-pitchers!
You know how some people say humidity has a color? This is it.
Fountains surrounding Philadelphia Museum of Art are especially popular in a heat wave, 08/1973. (by The U.S. National Archives)
Some of the most stunning photographs in Of Another Fashion were taken by Addison Scurlock who the Smithsonian described as “among the very best of 20th century photographers.” He and his sons, Robert and George Scurlock (pictured above in the 1950s in the Scurlock Studio) produced nearly a…
Well, there was that one episode where the banker told her she had no assets…
Don’t get me wrong- I watch Sex and The City. I never got why she wore a lot of shit on her head, or why she thought Chris Noth was remotely fuckable, but I still dug that slutty old lady who made all the cock puns. I’ve seen most of the episodes, I’ve drank booze and saw them with my ‘girlfriends’ and at one point I concluded I may have been a Miranda even though I’m not a ginger bitch. However, there’s been something about the show that has been gnawing at me lately.
I’ve been out of college with a writing degree for almost a year now. I too, moved to NYC (well, Brooklyn, but I wear more skinny jeans than Charlotte) to pursue writing. And I’ve done pretty well with it, soo fucking whoop-de-do for me, but something’s been bothering me and I just need to get it off my chest:
Carrie Bradshaw, you gotta be tripping balls to have us believe that you can sustain yourself that extravagantly on that one stupid-ass column. You lying bitch!
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Coming from a multiple vanity plate family, I have to admit, I kinda love them. I’ve got a particular weakness for this one.
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I got to fulfill my secret dream of being a sports reporter a couple weeks ago. (I didn’t want to share this earlier for fear it would jinx UConn, but I can now that the championship is in the books. Yep, I’m that superstitious.)
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At Houston Galleria. They literally shut down an Ed Hardy store because Dennis Rodman is shopping inside. Weekend: complete.