When I was young, my grandmother did not wish for me to learn how to cook. But it wasn’t merely a wish—it was her rule.
I love to photograph my friend Camille because elegance is her native state.
One never knows, does one?
Some people look extraordinary in photographs. This friend is one of them. Who knew?
I love to drive through small towns to see how the other half lives.
The Good Luck Bonne Chance Raspa Stand is selling Cucumbers On a Stick tonight, covered in chili powder and lime. There’s World’s Best Corn in a Cup and Hot Fritos ‘n’ Xtra Cheese if you want them, and for a limited time only, you can get a Double Tiger’s Blood Raspa, Everybody’s Favorite Sno-Cone Treat.
Trick question: Is there anything easy about being a seventeen-year-old girl?
Happy Saint Patrick’s Daaa—. . . Oh, I just don’t have it in me.
Here are all the keys to my place, cleaning expert. I’m going to stay in a Motel 6 in Barbados until you call me, okay? Bye-byeeeeee!
When was the last time you adjusted to a new technology? A year ago? This morning? Last week?
“My name is Weegee. I’m the world’s greatest photographer.”
Wherever it is I go in my dreams, the rest of me, that dogged corporeal self, attempts to follow.
Wait— you want me to make how much pho?!?
Three words: Fiberglass pink gorilla.
What’s the secret of writing, you say? Well here it is: Write anyway.