My Kind of Igloo

Sure your color-coded bookshelves are neat, but can they do this?

That's right, it's a self-supporting igloo made out of books. Colombian artist Miler Lagos made it and it just about kills me dead. Can you imagine how comforting it must smell in there? I would pile cushions all over the bottom of it and then just curl up reading ALL DAY LONG.

Heaven.

Spotted on Colossal

Love is a Battlefield AKA The Greatest Story Ever Told

Remember when we were young and we had that big fight with our parents and they were all “if you leave this house now etc” and so we waved goodbye to our kid brother through the window and took a bus from our small town to The City? Remember the men in the city? Their muscles when they bumped into us? Our father was a butcher or something, maybe a grocer? He wore an apron. Our mother worried. We wrote home sometimes, not to them, but to Billy. We made up stories about The City and had him promise to stay in school. Billy was a good kid. We didn't want him to end up like us. We wrapped ourselves in rags and dishtowels and found work as dime-a-dance girls in a place with low lights and a seedy boss who stared at us over the glint of his gold front tooth. We were tired all the time. We were barely making it. We draped over each other in heaps. The boss was taking deep cuts. He was taking liberties. We were sick of dancing his way. We took a stand...

Heartache to heartache, amirite?

How to Score a Refund From Your Terrible Internet Service Provider in 12 Emotionally Complicated Steps

Based on true events!

1) Decide after months of mind-numbingly slow Internet that it may be worth it to upgrade to the slightly faster version.

2) Call your Internet Service Provider to learn that the slightly faster version is only $6 more a month! Make a bunch of salty snacks in anticipation of getting to stream season three of Breaking Bad without random jumps and pauses in the connection.

3) Three weeks later, when your bill comes and it is $38 higher than expected, get disproportionally angry and call your Terrible Internet Service Provider in a huff.

4) Two and a half hours and three transfers into your call, verify your account number for the fourth time and confirm your “favorite singer” to a tired-sounding woman in Indianapolis. When she pulls up your overcharged account she will exclaim, “Well this can’t be right!” Agree. She will make keyboard clicking sounds and tell you to expect a refund on your next billing cycle. Believe her if you like. 

5) When the next bill comes, repeat step four, this time, with a fast-talking man in Philadelphia. Tersely explain your problem. Verify your account number. He will pull up your last two bills and exclaim, “This can’t be right!” in the same incredulous tone as the woman in Indianapolis. Agree. Attempt to extort an immediate solution from him with what you think of as your signature blend of “firm charm.” Fail. Demand to speak to “a higher up.” Fail. Warily believe him when he tells you to really expect a refund on your next billing cycle.

6) During the next three still-$38-higher-than-they-should-be cycles, up your calling regimen to twice a month, tag-teaming with your husband in a version of good cop/bad cop in which he plays the “Personable Southerner” and you play the “Aggrieved Harpy.” Verify your goddamn account number. Use your "mean" voice. Use your “unacceptable” voice. Threaten to cancel, knowing full well that they’re the only high-speed Internet provider in your pocket neighborhood. Know that they know this too. Use your pleading voice. Begin to see your failure to obtain this refund as a reflection of your general insignificance in the world.

7) Have a revelation. Search out your Terrible Internet Service Provider’s Twitter handle.

8) Tweet at them.

9) Receive an immediate reply.

10) Six minutes later, answer your phone to a serene, beautiful sounding woman named “Kate.” She’ll ask you how your day has been in a voice that will make you feel like the two of you have spent the last five months together in a tropical hideaway. Is that a waterfall in the background? Kate already has your account number. Kate just needs to confirm the name of your favorite singer. She will compliment you on your music taste. Then she will refund your five months of built-up overcharges with the customer service equivalent of a toss of her luscious brown hair. She will ask if there is anything more she can do to help and she will give you her personal line at the company headquarters. She will wish you a great rest of your day.

11) Ten minutes later, after you find the refund sitting placidly in your account, come up with a really snarky tweet about the power of public complaining,

12) But find that you just can’t bring yourself to do that to Kate.

P.S. I originally wrote this for The Billfold, a website which I adore, and which you should probably read everyday if you care at all about your life. Just sayin'.

A smile as your umbrella, a plant as your necklace, etc

Have you seen this?

Do you know you can wear plants now?

I DIE.

Your bike can wear them too.

Your bike dies!

She makes the right decisions about her man

Everything about this:

Text reads: Their heads are together. He cares for the good things of life. He’s an achiever. He’s confident. He likes his clothes smooth, sexy, comfortable– masculine.

The ‘Do Anything’ jump suit goes to party, bistro, patio or pad. 

She makes the right decisions about her man, about her looks, about her clothes.

There's more here, if you dare.

The Smartest Thing I've Done All Day

This morning, as I sorted through and assembled our seemingly endless pile of tax documents, I looked down at my fading manicure and sighed.

Tax time is dreary enough without having to look at such uninspired fingernails.

So, I unbent a paperclip, dipped it in white nail polish, and added tiny polka dots to my chipping fuchsia polish.

And just like that, tax time became delightful!

OK maybe not delightful, but, you know, at least it's polka-dotty now.

How to look at the winter without actually going out into the winter

I just spotted this house on the Odessa May Society.

How rad is that? A cozy-looking stone cottage all old and snowy and probably filled with tons of glowing hearths etc, and then that big glass box (that's presumably also warm somehow) so you can sit and marvel at all the snow-beauty and never actually have to go out into it! If I were forced someday to take a romantic winter vacation in snowland, I would insist upon this feature. Win win win.

Hamburger Wrapping Paper

Great idea. Though I would hate to get a gift wrapped only in the "meat patty" sheet. It's glistening.

The coolest thing that I didn't even know existed but now own two of

Take a look at this little guy. 

Why, it's a little ceramic squirrel, holding an acorn-full of strike-anywhere matches.  And he seems to have a textured base upon which to strike said matches!

Do you die? I die.

It's called, well, a match strike, and it's totally a real thing that people used to have in days of yore. 

Darling Jonathan Adler has resurrected the idea and oh how I adore him. 

Form, function, etc. We still don't even have things like bedside tables at our new place but we have a match strike. 

Er. Or should I say, we have multiple match strikes.

Don't judge.

After I learned about the concept, I immediately went hunting for more, and then I accidentally bought this amazing little bronze kangaroo off Etsy.

That face! That pouch! 

Do I actually need to say anything to justify this purchase? 

I didn't really think so.