onto the next.

aromd.tumblr.com

this is happening

why hello, kitty.

 

 

oh haillll to the yes. something like this will be happening VERY, VERY soon. just channeling my inner kreayshawn, naamean?

This girl is too real.

WARNING: This may be a little crude, a little offensive, and/or a little vulgar, but very REAL. I love this chick. She is fantastic.



If you ask any of my girls, consensus would be that I am the boldest motherfucker on the block. I’ve been known to tell a girl she ain’t it, to tell a man he’s beautiful, and to literally run after someone to ask for their name. Yeah, I know, I’ve got big cahones.

But when it comes to someone that I’m REALLY feelin’? I kind of get all awkward and retarded. My funny decides it wants to disappear, and my mouth forgets how to move. I’ve also been known to smile and nod at somebody hoping they can read my mind. Come on now, how often does THAT happen though? How many times do you actually like someone. Psh.

One of my closest homegirls has asked me to write a guidebook for her upcoming stint abroad. A “How to Talk to a Guy Without Sounding Full Retard” book, if you will. I laughed out loud when she said it, until I realized she was dead serious. I sat and thought about it and really, there’s only one thing to put on there:

Leave your vagina at home.

See, your vagina is a very fickle thing. It wants to sit on the face of a handsome man, gets tickled when he makes a funny joke, and goes a little crazy when he doesn’t call you. If it’s that time of the month, your vagina will also have you convinced you’re fat and ugly, that no one wants you, and force you into hiding. Point blank, your vagina is ruining your game. Without it, you could be a normal person and say Hi without your clit clapping, crack a witty joke about his favorite sports team without breaking a sweat, and watch him watch you walk away without stumbling all over yourself.

Be forewarned. When leaving your vagina at home, you miiiiiight feel the urge to come back to get it, soon as that handsome gentleman you’ve just woo’ed propositions a date. Only then are you allowed to put it back on as you’re getting ready, slip into your sexiest LBD, and knock this mf dead. You can thank me later.


- http://raaachem.com/

You don't know what's in store, but you know what you're here for.

The Weeknd from NOW Magazine on Vimeo.

everything i do, i do it big.

"Nostalgia is sometimes likened to ‘homesickness’ or ‘melancholy.’ While it’s the most bittersweet of the three, it seems like something we chase despite knowing that it doesn’t necessarily feel good when we catch it. What appeal is there in recording our thoughts, or in signing up for a website that parrots them back at us? We want records of these things so that we can review them from a distance some time later. We want tangible evidence that we’ve grown, even if it means being flooded by an overwhelming sense of loss in the process. If these reminders have the ability to move us deeply, regrettably so, have we grown? Sure, we’re older, maybe our hair is longer, and perhaps we’ve gained or lost a few pounds. Whether we’ve moved the needle of a scale left or right, nostalgia has the power to remind us that we’re heavy as ever. "
- Stepahnie Georgopulos

dining adventures from ma fone.

went to the beagle this past weekend with ma gurrrrrl, maria, where we regaled with some bomb ass cocktails and food. 

bam. do you have gin in you? yes? well, then I will drink you. 

this is the london buck: dry gin, ginger, fresh lime juice, and chilled seltzer. comes with a sweet metal stirrer/straw and a piece of candied ginger. this was devoured in approximately five aromchoecamel slurps. 

 

 pork rillete with sliced baguette and mustard.

pork cooked slowly in fat till it can almost be considered a freaking spread. 

 after my palette was pleasantly whetted by the delicious droplets of the aforementioned bev-uh-rahj, I took a bite of this goodness and my eyes rolled into the back of my skull. In other words = shiz was bomb.

 

fresh baby corn w/ mayonaisse, lime, and cilantro

if you know me and my taste buds, then you know about my mild obsession with corn. make it closely resemble candy (in this case a corn lollipop, for all you unimaginative creatures) and I may or may not shed tears of joy. I guess you'll never know until you take me out to dinner and feed me this again. Do it.

 

braised pork shoulder with broccolini, baby corn, and thumbelina (yes, this is real) carrots

sounds like a  fantasy fairytale to me. pork was so amazingly tender and fatty, I swore I heard Enya singing in the background. maybe it was the gin. 

squid, chilis, prosciutto, and frisee.

squid with what I would essentially deem a prosciutto potato chip? uhhh d-d-duh! I will eat you.