This toast goes out to everyone not at blogher. You are being toasted. Put that shit in your resume.

Shit that happens in the bathroom. I don't even know what to say.

I'm at the Volstead at 54th and Park. You've just been invited. Come now.

My session starts in 10 minutes and it's fucking PACKED.

My sandwich. I did not win and Padma was thoroughly disgusted with me.

Peoples party bathroom. 3rd floor of the Hilton. This is happening.

Alone in the bathroom outside the peoples party. Please come find me.

Got pulled over by the nypd IN A PEDICAB, y'all. This happens everytime I'm w/ @lmayes.

Apparently we're the only people who've ever brought their pet frogs to this restaurant. Weird.

Of *course* there's a teepee in my parent's living room.

The trade-off for scorpions and centipedes.

At the closest restaurant to our new house. They specialize in live bait, uhauls, and computer repair. And tacos.

The only person in the house who is enjoying moving day:

Exploring the new house. There's a metal rack bolted INTO THE MICROWAVE. The fuck, y'all?

The house is older and needs a lot of work but I finally have a place to play "Horseshoes". Worth it.

Just did the final walkthrough on our new house. Hailey exploring the backyard:

The joy of tonsilitis.

It's not dinner without sweet, hot beaver sauce.

This? That's the look of unexpected monkeys:

There are monkeys. In the fucking *furniture* store.